Chapter Nine

Poppy squinted her eyes and tapped her chin, inspecting her current volunteer project. Fall season was in full bloom, the breeze getting colder. Dried leaves of changing colors were drifting down from the forest canopy, littering the pathways and clinging to passing troll hair. Unfortunately, colder weather was something that fuzzlings couldn't stand so construction of the new pod homes was slow going. They needed more helping hands, so Poppy was putting the finishing touches on the outside of the first completed pod. There were still so many other pods that had to be built, but each one was going to get equal parts of the same love and attention. Cutting corners wasn't something she liked to do when it came to helping her friends.

Dipping a large brush into a paint can, Poppy slathered more vibrant strokes into the wood panels. It was one of the highest hanging pods inside the tree, sitting closest to the sun. She didn't know which troll this home belonged to, but it made her smile thinking about how happy they were going to be when they got to see how beautiful this was. The other side of the Troll Tree was still healing and there was a glimpse of the damage from this high position in the leaves, but soon enough there would be regrowth. Flowers and other greenery would replace the scarring come next Spring, blooming to an incredible view.

"Psst… Did you read it?"

Poppy squeaked, turning around quickly from the question and splattering yellow paint onto the trunk of the bough she was standing on. Cloud Guy was peeking out from behind a pyramid pile of different colored paint buckets, looking back and forth around them quickly to make sure the area was clear of eavesdroppers. Poppy snorted and covered her mouth, grinning at his current geddup. Guy was wearing thick black sunglasses, a chocolate brown fedora and a long matching overcoat.

"Playing detective today, Cloud Guy?" she giggled and placed her paintbrush aside.

"I'm undercover," he whispered. "I've got business with the troll princess. Very important business. You wouldn't happen to know if she's free for some well played shenanigans?" The cloud wiggled his eyebrows at Poppy over his sunglasses and she giggled again.

"I may have some time, if only for you," she said teasingly.

"Perfect," he said, surging forward and taking her hand in his to blow an airy kiss on the back. "Did you read the you-know-what that I gave you? I worked hard to get that, tell me you read it, oh gracious one."

Poppy bit her lower lip and side glanced, the thought of Branch making her feel guilty. "I did read it… I shouldn't have, though, and you shouldn't have taken his journal, Cloud Guy."

He shrugged at her, "Taken, not taken, it's all past now. You know exactly why I did what I did, Princess. Branch isn't going to do this on his own, he needs his friends to give him a little helping hand."

"Ugh, you're so right about that," Poppy pouted. "What do you think we should do? Do you really think that they're soul mates? I talked with Creek and it doesn't take a smart troll to know that he's not thrilled about the idea."

Cloud Guy smirked and moved in closer to her, "I don't think, Poppy. I KNOW. It's time you and I play –," he looked around again dramatically. The fuzzlings were far away, doing their own thing, obviously not giving a single thought towards the two of them.

Poppy raised her brows, apprehensive. "Play…?" she urged him.

"Match-maker," Cloud Guy said with chaotic grin.

Poppy's eyes blew wide and she made a small squeal, bouncing in place with her fists clenched. It was taking every bit to not scream in excitement. "Match-maker!" she cried quietly, falling into the ploy of being secretive in their plot.

Cloud Guy grabbed Poppy and jumped with her into a nearby clump of leaves. He made an animated attempt at pressing against the tree, peeking out of a small opening to make sure no one saw them hide. Poppy was grinning so big her cheeks were starting to hurt. She bit her lower lip and continued to bounce on her heels in a crouched position. The cloud turned back to her, holding his hands up.

"First thing, they need a date," he started.

"Branch and Creek?!" Poppy squealed.

"Branch and Creek on a date," he chuckled mischievously. "I'm thinking a big party, with cupcakes and glitter and –"

"Branch doesn't like parties though," Poppy interjected. "Or glitter. Or even cake, honestly. Creek doesn't like cake either."

Cloud Guy made a dramatically disgusted face, "What kind of troll doesn't like cake? Cake is delicious. BOTH OF THEM?"

"Pffh, I know. I've got some weird best friends." Poppy rolled her eyes with a scoff. "We need something fun but more low-key that they can do together. A party but not really a party?" She frowned, confused at her own train of thought.

Cloud Guy pondered with her, his lips pursing. "Hmmm…"

They sat together in their hiding spot, staring at one another with scrunched faces.

"This is harder than I thought," Poppy grumped.

"I'VE GOT IT!" Cloud Guy yelled suddenly. "A festival!"

"An autumn festival?" Poppy added, her mouth in a gasp.

"Fall-themed Carnival?" Cloud Guy gasped with her. "I can see it already. Cotton candy, balloons, games, rides!"

"Perfect!" she cried. "There's so many things they can do together with something like that."

Poppy and Cloud Guy did a high five with a triumphant laugh.

- - - - - - -

Back at the Survival Bunker, the cover of sleep was finally being shaken off with the morning. Branch stretched long and deep in his bed, groaning softly. The covers felt soft and cool against his bare skin. Sitting up gingerly, the grey troll rubbed his hands over his eyes before glancing around his room. He managed to take off his clothes before getting into bed last night, but didn't put on any pajamas or even a bath robe. He pulled his sheet higher up his naked body, silently thanking his intoxicated self for keeping the door shut. Creek was the first thing that wandered into his mind. It felt awkward having to worry about other trolls seeing him naked in his own home. Poppy was smart enough not to barge into his bedroom, but Creek had already proven that he'll run through every door in the bunker trying to find him. Nakedness wasn't uncommon in Troll Village, but he was no sparkling glitter troll and did his best to shield innocent eyes from his rough physic.

Memories from the night made him squirm, which in turn made his entire head throb. It almost seemed like a weird dream, but the sluggish feel from drinking wine confirmed that they really did share some embarrassing moments together.

He agreed to let Creek be his friend… a real friend again, just like how they used to be. Branch gripped the edge of his sheet in both hands, chewing on his dried lower lip.

"Branch, you're my best friend," Creek's young trolling voice echoed through his ears.

"You were my best friend, too," Branch whispered back, letting his memories fly free. He wanted to remember how it used to be. Was it really possible for them to go back to that time?

"Dance with me, Branch! You're a beautiful dancer!"

Branch smirked to himself, remembering how the purple trolling used to be obsessed with his mediocre footwork. They always danced together, and for long awhile, Branch believed every word that Creek said.

A flickering vision of a cute, purple trolling danced in front of his eyes. His smile was big and he looked carefree and wild, his teal hair fluffy and unkempt.. A smaller sized Branch grabbed his hands and they twirled together in a tight circle through the long grass. Branch was a brilliant cerulean with royal blue hair, cheeks touched with color as they giggled and laughed until they were completely out of air.

Creek collapsed on the ground, rolling onto his back with heavy breaths. Branch flopped next to him the same way and they both looked up at the clear blue sky through the old Troll Tree canopy, not a care in the world.

Creek smiled over at the blue trollling and grabbed his hand, entwining their small fingers together. Branch looked over at him and returned the smile, shaking their fists with another giggle.

"I'm stuck to you like glue," Creek said, squeezing his hand.

"That's alright with me," Branch replied. "I like glue."

"That's 'cause you like to make stuff all the time." Creek leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek before getting up to his feet, pulling on Branch's arm. "Come on! It's almost supper time, Mrs. Rosie is probably looking for us."

"Okay, okay," Branch said, clambering to his feet.

Branch never gave it much thought back then, but he knew… He totally used to love Creek. He loved Creek in a way that didn't have words and he never felt the same about anyone else. He was more than family, more than just a trolling's best friend, and there was no need to overthink it. Their childhood was happy and simple, and the more that Branch thought about it, the more he missed it.

A soft knock sounded on his bedroom door, bringing Branch back to reality. He pulled his sheet high over his chest and shoulders, staring at the doorknob across the way.

"Branch, are you awake?" Creek called from the other side, rather quietly.

Branch cleared his throat and looked around frantically for his pants. "Yeah, I'm dressing, don't come in!" he called back. With a jumbled movement, the grey troll wrapped himself in his bed sheet like a lame toga and crawled out of bed, hobbling over to where his clothes were strewn on the floor.

"It's almost noon, but I took the liberty of making breakfast. I'll wait for you in the kitchen?"

Branch's ears twitched and he gawked, "Noon?! Crap, I slept in way too late. There's so much to do!" He dropped his sheet and yanked on his old, patched up work pants, stumbling when his foot caught inside the leg.

Creek had his ear pressed to the door, listening to the grey troll fumble around in the room. He grinned and tried to imagine what it looked like. It wasn't actually noon, but much earlier in the morning. He couldn't let a brand new day start off without giving Branch a good tease. It was harmless enough and he'd feel better when he found out the truth. As if on queue, Branch cursed Creek's name when he spotted his clock, "Damn it! It's not even noon, you liar! It's barely eight o' clock. Can't believe it. Stupid. Ugh." Creek chuckled at the broken muttering.

They met up in the kitchen, Creek sitting with his legs folded in his chair and Branch eyeballing the spread that he'd made. The grey troll slipped into the chair on the opposite side of the dining table, stomach growling in excitement. There were several mounds of steaming, fluffy pancakes and colorful cut fruit dishes to compliment. Creek unfolded his legs and sat up straight, scooting in closer.

"Is it alright?" he asked gently.

Branch looked over their breakfast again and nodded, swallowing a bit. "It looks… great."

Creek smiled and picked up a fork, spearing a couple of pancakes and laying them onto his plate. "Dig in, then. At first I didn't know what to make, but I remembered you're a fan of pancakes. We used to eat them a lot."

Branch copied Creek's movement, stabbing his own pancake from the center dish and pulling it to him. He glanced up at the purple troll, watching him cut his breakfast into smaller pieces then topping it with chunks of strawberry. His eyes were soft and pleasant, giving Branch a relentless flux of butterflies. He gripped his fork tightly and fought down the fluttering.

"Why did you do this?" he blurted out.

Creek stopped his knife and looked up, then made a small complacent smile. "Why not?" he countered easily. "You made me dinner once before, so I made you breakfast. That's what friends do. Give and take. It's not complicated, dear Branch."

"This is weird," Branch frowned, casting his gaze back down to his plate.

"Weird, maybe, but it's a good weird," Creek said lightly, taking a bite.

"You don't think you're doing too much?" he asked quietly.

"No, actually. I'm not doing enough."

Branch coughed slightly on a bit of pancake, not sure how to take that response. He looked back up at Creek to witness him slipping a strawberry past his lips, watching Branch with a fresh intensity. A small shiver crept through his nerves, unable to look away while Creek licked a fleck of juice from the corner of his mouth.

"I have business today as well," the purple troll continued casually. "Can you leave your evening free again?"

"You're not going to try to poison me again, are you?" Branch rolled his eyes and stabbed at his plate.

"So cheeky," Creek drawled. "No, no more wine. You'll like this, I swear."

Branch raised an eyebrow at him, "Another gift?"

"It's well deserved."

"That's not necessary," Branch said tightly.

Creek pressed his mouth into a thin line then sighed, "Just let me do this, Branch. Could you not fight my kindness at every step?"

Branch scowled, then shoveled a heaping fork full of food into his mouth so that he wouldn't say anything he would regret later. Creek chuckled at his stuffed face, appreciating the attempt.

After breakfast, the two trolls cleaned up the kitchen together in an odd, pleasing mutuality. Creek insisted on scrubbing the dishes while Branch dried them and placed each item in its proper spot. It was things like this that had the grey troll reeling mentally. A week ago, the two of them hadn't even been on speaking terms. Now they were together, sharing meals, settling into every day like they'd been doing it for years. Branch wondered how long these simple pleasantries were going to last. Nothing in his life was ever good for longer than a moment. Dread started to seep into his consciousness while he put away the last dish and gave a short, silent nod to Creek as he left the bunker. It was only a matter of time until something terrible happened and they'd be thrust back to square one.

- - - - -

"This is far from acceptable, I want a complete do-over," Creek said, tossing the schematic back to Fuzzbert. The paper scroll sucked into the body of hair and the lime green troll bristled in irritation, turning heel and going back to the other fuzzlings. They wiggled at each other and made a series of small chirps, discussing things in their own language.

Creek tried to repress the negative mixture of emotions that plagued his aura. He stood at the south side of the great Troll Tree in the middle of the fuzzling construction zone. Multiple pod shells were hanging around them, only about ten percent to completion. The table in front of him held many different blueprints scattered along the surface, catered to each troll who'd be receiving a pod.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Creek turned away from the furry group and starting the way down the wooden path towards the market side of the tree.

"Hey, Creek!"

The troll stopped and turned to see Poppy running up to him, waving her arm. She had a few spare leaves floating in her pink hair and Creek picked them out for her, dropping the bits over the edge of the path. She looked like she'd been rolling around in the bushes recently.

"Hello, my princess," Creek smiled.

"Thanks for that," she grinned. They exchanged a small hug and Poppy jerked her thumb in Fuzzbert's direction. "So, what's wrong with it? I watched you reject your pod plan."

"It just isn't… quite right," he forced out, trying to think of a legitimate reason that would satisfy her. There really wasn't anything wrong with the pod that they wanted to build him. In actuality, the fuzzlings were very keen to every troll and their individual needs. From what Creek saw in the plan, it was completely fine, perfect even. The pod resembled everything that he had lived in before and he should be happy and excited about getting his old home back. Except, he wasn't. His inner being was pulling, telling him to delay construction. Creek knew it had to do with living with Branch… but he couldn't possibly tell Poppy that he wanted to stay in the bunker with the grey troll. He definitely couldn't accept that irrational thinking for himself.

"Okay, but what's not right about it?" Poppy pressed on. "We should talk to them about the changes you want, that way there aren't any delays, you know?"

"I have things to take care of in the market, love" Creek dodged, biting the inside of his cheek and turned to leave, briskly walking away from her. "Just tell them to work on the other homes until I'm ready to discuss the plans."

Poppy frowned, suspicious of his behavior. Catching up to his pace again, the pink troll poked him in the arm. "Alright, I'll tell them to hold off on your pod, but you have to tell me what's up with you."

Creek kept his eyes forward, refusing to budge his expression. "What ever do you mean?"

"You're acting funny, Creek! How are things with you and Branch?" She smiled knowingly when the mention of the grey troll caused Creek's face to harden.

"I guess I can't hide it from you," he sighed, slowing his walk.

"No, you can't," she agreed wholeheartedly.

After a long pause, contemplating what to say, Creek pressed his hands together in another attempt to calm himself. "You were right about the scenting," he said. "He definitely smells something from me, but I can't get anything from him. It's very confusing, to say the least." Poppy's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something, but Creek stopped her with a raised hand. "Don't take it for more than what it is, love. There has to be some other explanation. I just haven't found it yet."

Poppy put her hand on his back in reassurance. "Alright, I won't pester about it. You'll let me know though, if something does happen?" She smiled at him again and Creek felt weak to her flow of positive emotions.

"Of course," he said. "You are the only one I talk to about anything."

"You can always talk to Branch, too," she offered. "About what he smells."

Creek laughed at that and shook his head, "Maybe when trolls sprout wings and fly, Princess."

"We do ride flying bugs, though!"

"That only covers half the requirement," he countered.

After some much needed playful banter, he bid his pink friend goodbye and she returned to the fuzzlings' construction to relay his instructions. Creek looked onward to the market, the colorful shopping pods glistening in the sunlight with a peaceful radiance that he loved to bask in. Shopping always gave him joy and taking part in the daily commerce was one of his favorite pastimes. It wasn't about having personal items. He loved the interactions between trolls, the bartering, and the endless gifting possibilities. He had a specific thing in mind that he wanted to pick up for Branch, but he wasn't sure if he was going to find the perfect one. The purple troll reached the center of the market, waving at all the passerby that greeted him.

He spotted the quaint little pod, uneasy while he walked up the wooden steps to the front door. The colorful sign hanging inside the window read 'MM Critter Clinic and Adoption'. He took a deep breath and opened the door, slipping inside the small lobby. There wasn't much to it, only a few waiting chairs and a side table with two or three scrapbooks. Across from the front door stretched a long white counter top with a single troll manning the station.

"Ah, Creek! I'm so glad to see you, finally," the critter-narian greeted him with a wide smile full of perfect teeth.

Creek walked up to the counter and took the bright, lilac hued troll's hand in a handshake. "A pleasure as always, Milton," he said graciously.

The troll beamed at him then proceeded to shuffle through some paperwork that was settled at his desk. "Just a moment and we can sign you in to see the little patients." Creek nodded and watched him sift through his work, admiring his deep butterscotch hair and perfectly kept blue sweater. Milton Moss was a handsome, gentle troll and he loved to visit him from time to time just to say hi. It was such a pity that Creek couldn't be romantically involved with the guy. Sometimes Milton was just too nice and he also had an unhealthy obsession with critters. That was something Creek couldn't bring himself to deal with on a day to day basis. Today, however, he hoped it was going to work in his favor.

"Sign here at the bottom, please," Milton said, pointing at the correct document. Creek scrawled his name on the waiver and then the lighter troll went around the counter to the side door where he kept the adoption kennels. "Right this way," he gestured.

Creek followed Milton into the other room and was bombarded with a strong array of barking, squawking, chirping, and the like.

"Do you have a specific creature in mind?" the troll asked him casually, waving at the excited, bouncing critters and blowing air kisses to them.

"A firefly, actually," Creek said, looking around at all the different kinds of bugs that lined the walls of the room, rattling in their kennels. There were fuzzy worms, sheepbugs, young caterbugs, beetles… all of them bright and rambunctious. Branch definitely wouldn't appreciate something so loud. One of the traits he appreciated in the grey troll was that he was quiet. He deserved a letter-bearer that was also quiet and serene like him.

"Excellent choice, our fireflies are just over here," Milton said, showing Creek to a small hanging dome cage with two creatures buzzing around inside. The apprehensive guru stepped closer to the cage and inspected the flies. They stopped their twirling play time and looked back at Creek, one of them tilting its head to the side, questioning. The other one chirped softly and blinked its huge eyes.

"They're not blue," Creek observed in disappointment.

"Blue?" Milton asked. "Heavens no, these are normal yellow lampryidaes. You won't find any blue ones here in the village. Those cute little buggers only live out in the wild, deep in the forest where no one can see. They get their blue-tone lights from eating a rare breed of wild amelanchier alnifolia most of their life. It's such a wonder how they're able to find berries like that."

Creek raised his brows at the scientific terminology, utterly confused. "Is that so?"

Milton poked his finger through the bars of the firefly cage and cooed to the bugs. They chirped at him happily and nuzzled his finger, making him gush. "Aww! These darn little guys."

"They are cute," Creek agreed. "I was really hoping for a blue one though..." He didn't know what to do now. Yellow wasn't the greatest color, in his opinion. It had to be blue, just like the undertone of Branch's skin. "I apologize for wasting your time, but these aren't quite what I'm looking for."

"Are you sure you don't want to check out any other critters?" Milton asked, pulling his finger out of the cage and walked with Creek back into the main lobby.

"No, no. It's quite alright, love."

"Until next time then, have a wonderfully positive morning!"

Creek forced another smile at the critter-narian then waved himself off.

He'd only been in the pod for a few minutes and despite all the happiness that bled from the clinic in glittering torrents, Creek was feeling cruddy. His stubbornness was about to get the better of him, he could feel it in his core. He couldn't go back empty handed tonight and all he wanted was a bloody firefly. The stupid creature had to be blue, there were no other choices suitable.

The purple troll jumped down the entry steps and almost tumbled on the last plank, realization slamming into him. Turning his direction quickly, Creek whipped out his strong two-tone hair with a grin, grasping a nearby branch and swinging out of the market plaza with great speed. He let go at the apex of the launch, spinning through the air and dropping down through the leaves with a laugh. How could he have easily forgotten? Branch had shown him exactly where the blue fireflies were, a week ago when he first caught him singing. The flies surrounded the troll like a precious halo, illuminating the night while dancing to his song.

Last night, Creek tossed and turned in bed dreaming about Branch and what he could do that was special enough to make him happy. He'd mulled over so many different things, most of them weeded out because he had to step back and think, is this practical enough for Branch? Would Branch find this bothersome? The grey troll was plagued by unhappiness but his likes, dislikes, passions and annoyances, those were all real and still inside him. Creek witnessed the beautiful spectacle of wild, dancing fireflies and he blasted himself for not appreciating it at the time. There was no doubt that this was the best gift he could give and the euphoria that came when he imagined Branch's reaction made his entire body tingle.

If Creek was going to travel out to his favorite tranquil hideaway then he had to hurry. Picking up the pace tenfold, the purple troll darted through the trees at a breakneck pace, sprinting North bound out of Troll Village. Doubt started to chew in the back of his mind. He prayed that his Holy Mother would give him the strength to make it back to the village before dark because he didn't want to keep his friend waiting for him.