Chapter Four

Evening came to the trolls' shared secret in the forest. Branch had build another small campfire and Creek was picking blue and red berries from a wild grove nearby. He plucked a rather large one from the bush he was scouring and inspected it for blemishes.

Co-inhabiting with Branch first seemed like something impossible, given their history, but neither one was going to submit and leave the area. Creek was probably the more stubborn troll as he would endure anything to prove a point. Though now, he wasn't quite sure what that point was anymore since they were getting along. It was the first miracle of their relationship. He was clinging to the idea that this encounter was a sign from Mother Destiny, and it fueled the kindness he awkwardly wanted to show. The first words they spat was to ignore each another, but time and time again they bumped into one another, talked to one another, and now Creek was gathering food for the second time to share with the grey troll.

Back at camp, Branch was getting cozy in the grass with his sketchbook, using the light of the fire. His pencil glided effortlessly over the hard pressed paper, crafting a rough still life image of a cluster of wildflowers in front of him. The flowers were interesting enough to grab his attention. Their small furry leaves twisted and held each other up, each flower growing into a different hue in a spectrum of bright colors. Branch tapped the end of his sketch pencil to his lips, analyzing the plant another degree.

In the background he heard Creek's whistle among the trees. Before too long the purple troll hovered back to Branch's side, carried by a strong beetle by the fluffy tip of his teal hair. Creek stepped lightly on the ground then touched his forehead to the bug, thanking him for the help. It buzzed happily in reply then flitted away.

"I brought us some fresh berries," he said. "Care to join me in savoring them?" Creek settled down next to Branch's side, laying the leaf full of food between them and peeked over his shoulder at the artwork.

"Oh, uh… Thanks," Branch said, taking some of the blue fruit and popping them into his mouth.

"That's really good," Creek smiled, pointing at the sketch. "I didn't know that you were also an artist. Harper would be jealous if she saw this."

Branch coughed on the juice from the berries and rubbed his chest. "There's really nothing to be jealous about," Branch said, swallowing a dislodged piece. "When you live alone, you tend to pick up a lot of different hobbies to occupy yourself." He closed his book, a bit too quickly, and set it aside with his backpack. Creek looked a little disappointed as he scooped up his own share of fruit, slipping a piece past his lips. Branch's attention zoned in on the movement of Creek's mouth, then he blinked rapidly and broke away. His cheeks burned dark from the sudden awkward interest. That was weird.

"Living alone in your bunker," Creek stated lightly.

"Yeah, in my bunker." Branch arched an eyebrow at the troll.

Creek hummed to himself and adjusted his sitting, crossing his legs in lotus position before speaking again. "For the sake of conversation, what made you leave Troll Village and build your bunker away from everyone?" Creek asked slowly, taking another berry from between them and keeping his eye contact away from Branch.

Branch bristled slightly at the question, his heart rate picking up. "Because of the Bergens," he stated flatly. "I was… worried that the Bergens would attack us again and I couldn't stand to live where I didn't feel safe, so I made my safety net underground. I ended up staying there because it was comfortable. This is common knowledge around the village, Creek."

Creek processed the answer for some time before continuing his prodding, "You know, Branch, the party they're having right now is because we've made peace with those giant brutes."

"Yes, I know," Branch said, more irritated. "but that means zilch to me. I won't forgive them for what they did."

"Even Poppy made best friends with that Bergen named Bridget."

Branch prickled again by Creek's comment and whipped a glare at the purple troll, "I won't forgive them!" he repeated. "They killed my grandmother and ruined the happiness of my life. Just look at my skin, Creek. You were even the first one to take a jab at it."

Creek looked his grey skin over as requested then pained slightly. His hands folded in front of him and he closed his eyes. "Your grandmother Rosiepuff, I remember her. She was a wonderful troll and was the most kind to all the trollings of our pack. She was taken away just like the other adults who were chosen on Trollstice. It's not something we could stop at the time, but it's over now." Creek opened his eyes from the memories flooding him and let out a controlled breath.

Branch's ears were drooping, his gaze starting lose its luster. "It's never over," he said stubbornly. "Not all the Bergens agree with the treaty and one day something is going to happen. I refuse to sit idly by, complacent before I'm eaten. I won't forgive them no matter what anyone says. The Bergens took my grandmother and they took my colors."

"Take them back," Creek said quickly. "Take your colors back."

"My colors are gone, Creek. Dead. Disappeared forever." Branch's hands snaked to his shoulders and he rubbed them, his body suddenly feeling too cold to handle.

"Your colors can come back, you just have to let it happen," the purple troll pushed.

"Things will never be like how they were before, just accept it already. I have," Branch said quietly.

"Branch, I..." Creek started, his thoughts starting to falter as he watched the depression eat away at Branch's features like a starving beast. He grimaced and refused to look away no matter what it did to his psyche. "There's still hope… Listen to me. The Branch that I knew from my childhood is there somewhere deep inside you. I saw him last night and I know I can see him again." Creek said the words carefully but the context was painful enough for the both of them. Silence crept up around them and Creek could hear the distant chirping of fireflies nearby.

Branch stared into the flames of the fire with dark eyes, "Last night," he repeated to himself. Hard realization dawned on the grey troll and he covered his mouth with his hand, eyes blown wide to life. He flicked his gaze up to Creek, full of fear now. "You heard me, didn't you?" he asked quickly. "You heard me sing."

Creek felt a shiver go through his body. He could feel Branch's aura starting to escalate dangerously and he held his palms up in defense, "Calm yourself, dear Branch," he said slowly. "Yes… I admit that I did hear you when I first arrived here, but it was… it was beautiful to hear you sing again. You shouldn't be ashamed of it nor try to hide it from others."

"What? No… No, no, no!" Branch jumped to his feet and threw his hands over his pointed ears, pulling on them anxiously. He paced around quickly in a jagged loop, chest heaving. "How could this happen? Why did it have to be you of all trolls?" He clenched his jaw tightly and glared back Creek with a newfound fury. "You lied to me when I asked you about it before. It must be really funny, right?! You've been having a good time toying with me, haven't you? You're the worst kind of lowlife!"

Branch went from zero to one hundred. That's it. Creek was finished with this intolerable tyrant spitting whatever he pleased. He had been patient and tried to understand what the troll was going through but this was taking it too far. The purple troll got to his feet and strode menacingly to Branch, grabbing his wrist and yanking him close so that he could talk straight to his face. "How dare you, Branch," he hissed.

"Let me go," Branch demanded in a panic. He pulled at Creek's grip but the purple troll was much stronger and his fingers wouldn't budge. Creek tightened his hold and crumpled Branch's vest in his fist.

"Listen to me for once," he replied. "I'm sick of these games you keep wanting to play. Lowlife? Liar? My actions have been genuine but you still find it necessary to insult me." Creek seethed when Branch turned his face away to avoid the icy daggers of his glare. The guru let go of the troll's vest and grabbed his chin instead, forcing Branch to look at him. Branch tried desperately to escape his grasp, pushing his trembling hand at Creek's chest and pulling at his forearm. Creek continued, unphased by the attempts, "We were all victims of the Bergens, Branch, but you've milked it for what it was worth and now this evil darkness is eating away at your soul. When are you going to realize that you're not alone out here? When will you accept that, even with your grandmother gone, there are still trolls who love you? You are the one that is ruining your life, not the Bergens!"

"What a load of crap," Branch said through his clenched teeth. "When will YOU realize that this is the way I am?! This is me and this is who I will be for the rest of my life. Why can't you accept me for me? Why do you even care, Creek? You haven't spoken a damn word to me for the last few years and tonight you suddenly know everything there is about me and the problems I have?!"

"Ugh, you're so ignorant!" Creek released the troll and shoved him away, making him stumble back and land on his backside.

"Better ignorant than a selfish asshole!" Branch cursed back. They both panted from overwhelming feelings, the air was suffocating and stagnant. Branch rubbed the pain from his wrist and his heavy breathing turned into a small, restricted sob. Tears spilled from his eyes and he closed them tight, curling up into himself and hugging his knees to his chest. He hid his face from view, shoulders shaking softly.

"This is who I am," he whispered, as if trying to reaffirm it to himself.

Creek buried his flaming emotions and tried to keep his doubts at bay. They pulled at him. He had to be right about this, for the both of them. He couldn't remember the last time he lost his cool. All the meditating and positive vibes in the world couldn't bring peace to his heart right now. "No, it isn't," Creek responded gruffly. This wasn't the real Branch. He didn't know about darkness or how to expel it, but he knew that it couldn't be real.

Branch did a final sniffle and wiped his eyes, summoning his inner pieces back together, slowly but surely. "I'm leaving… in the morning," he managed to speak out. "I knew that this was a bad idea. I'd rather deal with loud parties then be out here another day." He weakly climbed to his feet and went over to his backpack. He stuffed his scattered things inside, along with his journal, and fluffed the outside of it before flopping down and using the bag as his pillow for the night. "Let's forget this happened, alright," he said quietly, facing away from Creek. "When we're back home at the village, things can be normal again."

Creek felt defeated even if he might have won the battle. This is what he gets for going to war without a plan. Maybe he didn't know Branch as well as he once did, but his heart ached for that possible re-connection. They're friendship was nonexistent so trying like this wouldn't break anything between them, or so he wanted to believe. Unfortunately, the link between them was more broken now than ever before.

The night dragged onward, consumed by the whimsical music of nature. Night bugs skittered through the tall grasses and the white noise of the waterfall was always a pleasant backdrop. A small breeze picked up and Creek wrapped his arms around himself. He felt chilled to his core, but it wasn't because of the changing weather. After a few hours, Branch managed to fall asleep by the dying campfire and the purple troll sat across the way, listening to the soft puffs of his breath while he slept. Creek already tried to sleep himself but his mind wouldn't calm. He watched Branch's back and his eyes wandered over to his ears and hair. The light of the fire reflected through the black strands and kept Creek's attention for what seemed like an eternity. He fought with himself inside, gazing over the troll's sleeping figure.

He thought about all the terrible things he's said about Branch's complexion. He thought about the insults that fell from his lips without giving it a second thought. Creek stared into the depth of grey that was Branch's skin and tried to wrap his mind around the hue. It was definitely grey, but there was a tinge of blue inside. It was the farthest thing from a bright color, but in actuality it wasn't an awful shade. Creek despised it because it wasn't the deep cerulean blue that he remembered from their childhood. That's the only reason why he hated it so much. Branch wasn't ugly at all, like he'd told him multiple times before. In fact, he was actually one of the better looking trolls in the village.

His cheeks flushed a deep violet when he thought about Branch's attractive features; rugged physic, strong jaw, definitely more intelligent compared to the other trolls. What in the world is wrong with me, Creek thought to himself. He quickly shook away the weird turn his mind just took and rubbed his hands over his eyes. He felt so mentally tired and wished that sleep would take him fast.

Sunrise was approaching the horizon now, peeking light through the thicket of trees surrounding them. Creek lay on his back, wide awake, observing the diminishing stars. The concept of time was lost to the troll and he ended up staying awake all through the night. This stress couldn't be good for his skin.