12 Chapter Twelve

Morning came as it always does, but a fresh dousing of Autumn rain continued its assault across the forest, blocking out the sunshine with puffy dark clouds and shaking the trees with strong winds. Miles away from Troll Village, on the outskirts of Bergen Town nestled next to the city garbage dump, was an old trailer home occupied by an unlikely duo. It sat alone in the darkness, a single dingy widow glowing from inside. The travel tires were both flat and the stakes sunk deep into the ground, tilting the house to the left. A shadowed figure scaled the brick wall of the city with agile movements and swung over the top. It dropped lightly on the other side and hurried through the collected garbage and metal scrap that blended the trailer into the background of the dump. They walked up the rickety three-step stairs and banged on the door.

On the second knock, the door swung open wide. "Hurry, hurry! Get inside, you big lump!"

A flash of lightning illuminated the storm as a skinny, green Bergen wrapped in a black overcoat rushed into trailer house. The entry way was cramped and damp from the rain and the man sighed, shaking off his coat and hanging it on the rack by the door to drip dry. In front of him stood the previously reputable and most prestigious Bergen Town royal cook, Chef. Even in her years of exile, the Bergen still donned her tailored kitchen outfit and traditional white hat. Her baby blue hair was longer now, frayed and tangled around her neck because frankly, she just didn't give a damn anymore. Clinging desperately to the golden years of living in the palace, Chef thought of nothing but revenge on the tiny Trolls that ruined her entire meaning to exist.

The older female had her bony hands on her hips, staring down the younger man with her beady yellow eyes while he situated himself.

"Where the hell have you been, Carl?" she barked. "I've been waiting on your report for days!"

"Good morning to you, too... and the name's Kevin, remember? It's really difficult to get out when you're always on guard duty at the palace, you know." He straightened his deep red jerkin and twisted his sleeves before pulling his bucket hat from the back of his pants and covering his receding hair line. He patted down his palace uniform and Chef glared at him harder while he took his sweet time, a low growl coming from her throat. "King Gristle Jr. likes my company, apparently," he said, ignoring her impatience.

Kevin the Bergen, one of the more intelligent folk to dwell within the center city, wasn't easily flustered by Chef's abusive name calling or selfish antics. He was the third ranked castle guard among many loyal servants and armed staff, trained to be civil and solid even under the heaviest of pressures. He'd worked for the original King Gristle more than twenty years ago when he was just a child, and has been a part of the royal society his entire life since then.

Recently, however, Kevin stumbled upon the banished cook when he caught her trying to break into the castle to steal utensils from the kitchen. Instead of reprimanding her actions, she somehow roped him into her schemes to capture the Trolls. It took many moons to get him to go along with her plans but now here they were, shacked up inside a small tin can and slinking behind the King and Queen's back, pushing high treason, and trying to find trolls that they weren't technically allowed to eat. Kevin was definitely interested in feasting on the trolls as he did years ago with the old king. He missed the magic of Trollstice and believed the talk of inner happiness was just a ploy in letting the creatures run away from their true purpose. A lot of what Chef said made sense to him, but not to mention he had an old admiration for the aggressive woman.

"I don't want to hear your excuses, just give me the details. Did they take you to see the trolls or not?" Chef snapped at him in her usual, prickly manor.

Kevin smirked, his jagged teeth gleaming. "What do you think?" He revealed a crumpled scroll of paper from inside his shirt and handed it over to Chef. She snatched it quickly, glowing with excitement.

"Excellent," she screeched, unraveling the scroll and looking over the images printed inside. She turned turned away from Kevin and inspected the paper closely, flattening it out on the tiny kitchenette counter. It was a map of the forest surrounding Bergen Town, red marker lines drawn in a haphazard connection from the location of their trailer to a prominently drawn circle smack dab in the middle of the green imagery.

"The new Troll Tree is only ten kilometers from here," Kevin explained, looking over her shoulder. "There's no information about the next time Gristle and Bridget are going to visit the Trolls either. You're free to do what you want without their conflict until I hear something more."

Chef cringed at Bridget's name, rolling the map up quickly with an angry scoff. "That disgusting, no good, worthless idjit. I'll have to write up a special plan to destroy her as well, but first we take the main prize. Capturing the trolls are more important." Whipping around to face her Bergen counterpart, she tapped the edge of the map on his wart-covered nose. "Good work, even though you're slow," Chef grinned.

"I am honored to receive such praise," Kevin made a deep bow, extending his hand outwards. Chef made a dramatic show of gushing and gave her hand so he could kiss the back of it.

"Still mannered as always," she smirked, then Chef slapped him away abruptly and sat down on the worn-out recliner in the corner of the living area, holding the map to her chest as if it were a precious jewel.

"How soon are we going to leave?" Kevin asked, going to the window and moving aside a single blind to judge the level of the rain. "The weather will probably clear up sometime this afternoon."

"Too soon, don't get ahead of yourself. I need a few more days to patch things together," Chef replied. "At least a week more. The plan must go perfectly! I'll call you when it's time and you'd better not be late again. It won't matter if you walk out because this will be your last job as a servant to those idiots."

Kevin grunted and moved to pour himself a drink by the end table, taking a quick swig from the tiny glass. After a silent moment of thought, he placed the glass down and observed Chef gawking at her map. "Once I leave the palace I can't go back," he said slowly. "I will have nothing if this falls through. I'm trusting you to pull this off otherwise we'll both be incomparable to the trash outside."

"You're worrying too much," Chef said with a comforting croon. "After we get the trolls, we'll use them to create our new kingdom and all of your troubles will be over. You can trust me, Cody."

"For the last time, my name is Kevin."

- - - - - -

Flowers blooming, wind blowing, and the sun shining warmth around him. Branch laid on his back in the middle of an endless field of multicolored daisies, breathing in the soft scents and letting the scenery penetrate his core. It was beautiful. He felt beautiful, happy, and carefree. Then, there was a rumbling sound at the edge of the horizon. Branch sat up quickly and looked in its direction, finding a familiar, shimmering troll sitting next to him in the field. They were glowing, filled with white and had no discerning features. I know you, Branch thought. The glowing troll smiled and Branch's heart weakened to its perfection.

T he troll held out their hand for him to take, palm up. Branch didn't hesitate, sliding his own with theirs and smiling back. A fresh gust of wind blew their direction and whipped around the two trolls. No, not again, he thought with a panic. He didn't want to let go this time and squeezed the trolls hand for dear life. He needed this troll. He didn't know why but it just felt right. They needed to be together. Branch squinted his eyes against the harsh weather then gasped when the bright glow from his companion was wiped clean like the swirling drift of a cloud. Underneath the mystery was Creek.

Creek smiled the same smile, their hands joined together. His lilac eyes were bright and his purple skin was flawless. Branch stared at him, unable to comprehend the message. Within the center of Creek's chest, there was a dark pit.

Anxiety. Fear. Saddness . The darkness pulsated and grew, but Creek's happy expression remained the same, gazing only in Branch's direction.

Branch made a feeble sob, shaking his head. Stop, Creek! Stop it from growing!

He couldn't move or speak. Nothing he did could stop Creek from being swallowed by the black hole completely, along with the meadow, sky, and everything, sucked in with lighting speed. Branch was left alone with nothing... in a world of nothing.

In the back of his mind, he heard a small sound.

Chirp. chirp.

Something was there?

Chirp. chirp.

Branch's consciousness dragged to the surface, his ears curving towards the chirps that echoed inside his dreamland. He cracked his eyes open and breathed in slowly. "Mmm," he murmured. Tilly chirped again, the blue firefly crawling across his pillow in front of his face. She touched her forelegs to Branch's cheek and poked at him. The sleepy troll groaned and rolled away from the critter, tightening the bed sheet around his shoulders. What a terrible dream… but with every second that passed, the details fled his mind. He tried to think about it more but couldn't remember what happened or who he was with.

The bug huffed and skittered over his form, nestling inside of his hair. She started to chew the black locks, teasing the strands. Branch brushed Tilly off his head, annoyed. "What do you want," he said groggily. The critter purred happily and wiggled at him, revealing a folded letter attached to her shell with a thread of string. Branch rubbed his eyes and squinted at the letter, sitting up on his elbow to get a better look. He frowned instantly and scoffed, untying the paper from the firefly's back and giving her a gentle rub under the jaw before opening it. It seems Creek wasted no time using his firefly to send him a note, even when they were living in the same home. How ridiculous.

My dearest, loveliest Branch, good afternoon!

I know this is super sudden to ask, but I need you to bring my yoga mat to the east of Troll Village near Daisy Meadow for my amazing yoga class, being held in the purple studio 4 pod. I know you'll be coming out of the bunker sometime soon to collect rain water and mushrooms so do this on your way! Thanks-a-bunches!

Love, Creek.

Branch stared dead-eyed at the letter, reading it multiple times before setting it down slowly. The corner of his mouth twitched. He'd be an idiot to believe that Creek actually wrote this note, it sounded too much like Poppy. He turned his attention to Tilly and lifted a brow, gesturing to the paper. "From Creek, eh?" he asked her, knowing full well that the critter couldn't actually tell him. The bug fluttered her big eyelashes at him and lifted off the bed, buzzing out of the bedroom.

Dragging his reluctant body out of the covers, Branch stood up and yawned deeply. The air felt cool and the floor chilled his feet. He noted the changing temperatures and thought about pulling his slippers out of storage. There wasn't much time left until he'd have to switch his entire wardrobe to something warmer to fight off the winter. Because of reoccurring heavy snows, it was rare for him to leave the bunker unless he needed to fix something or gather seasonal items. Most of the trolls kept to themselves when the weather was harsh, which didn't bother him at all.

After yawning himself awake, Branch got dressed quickly in his usual green garb of vest and patched trousers and wandered into the kitchen to scrounge for a bit of bread and fruit. The letter rang true as he thought about all the new tasty mushrooms that were undoubtedly sprouted all over the woods from the rain. Branch shoved the rest of the food in his mouth and went to Creek's room, crumpling the note in his pocket. He paused at the door and grimaced, really contemplating what he was about to do.

Branch had a suspicious inkling that Poppy comprised an annoying plan hidden inside this favor, but what could the harm really be? He'd bring the yoga mat as requested and then dip out as fast as possible before anyone could see him. There would be no swindling in any merry-making they were planning for the day. He couldn't remember if today was a holiday or not, but to be fair, they had a different holiday once a week. The entire ordeal smelled fishy but if Poppy wanted him to bring her a yoga mat then he couldn't refuse the princess. Branch wished she wouldn't take such a round-a-bout way of asking him to do things.

"Let's get this over with quickly," he breathed to himself, opening the door.

After a quick scan, Branch found a dark blue mat that was rolled and tied in the closet. Luckily for him, he didn't have to touch too many of Creek's possessions to get to it. It was awkward enough already for the antsy troll. His bunker was his own, but it felt wrong to be in there while Creek was away.

Hugging the mat under his arm and an empty woven bag slung over his shoulder, Branch climbed the elevator to the upper level and snuck out of his bunker, glancing left and right to avoid anyone who might be in the area. The rain had long since stopped and the forest smelled strongly of vegetation and wet dirt. It was extremely pleasant to Branch and made him excited to be outside. He darted behind a big brush of bushes and peeked through the dripping leaves, staying quiet and suspicious of everything. His destination wasn't too far away, but he was going to take his time gathering mushrooms along the path. Crouching down to a particularly full patch of fungus at his feet, he smiled and inspected the plush caps before breaking them off at the base and dropping them into the bag he brought.

His stomach cramped from being anxious about meeting Poppy and he tried to calm it by sampling some of the mushrooms. Of course they would taste better cooked, but the earthy, soft texture and strong smell was relaxing.

After gathering a few dozen more mushrooms in his sack, Branch arrived at the fourth studio pod at the upper East side of the Troll Tree. Right below him under the large branches, he could see bits of Daisy Meadow through the foliage in the distance. The wild flowers were scattered and dying from the colder weather. Much of the area was suffocated with yellow and orange fallen leaves. There would be all sorts of scavenging critters and bugs over there, digging through the leaves to find the hiding treasures of Autumn food. Branch's interest was piqued again, but he clenched his jaw and turned his attention back to the pod in front of him.

Branch walked up the wooden steps and grasped the long handle. His hand was shaking. Biting his lower lip, he forced himself to pull open the door quietly and walk inside. The main hall was scarcely decorated with a couple of photos and flower pots. There were four black doors, two on the left side and two on the right. It was painfully obvious to see which one was occupied because rampant shouting, laughter, and thumping of a dozen troll feet reverberating through the back door on the right. Branch laid his bag of mushrooms on the floor next to the entry way and tried to solidify himself for whatever was going to rush his way.

"It's going to be fine," he whispered reassuringly. "It's fine. You'll be fine."

Branch opened the second door, grasping the yoga mat tight under his arm. The grey troll stepped inside the large studio room and shut the door behind him, a little too loudly though. Before he could search for his fluffy, pink princess, dozens of eyes stared in his direction. Everything became painfully quiet with a unison of gasps. Branch couldn't breathe as his whole world froze in place while the multitude of colorful trolls expressed their surprise...

Run now. Run away!

His feet wouldn't move. They were sinking endlessly in the wooden floor and his knees rattled together. This isn't what he wanted to deal with at all!

"Branch? What are you doing here?"

Branch startled and looked up at Creek, who had walked over to him. His eyes were concerned and confused, hands folded together with apprehension. The purple troll was donning a pair of white leggings and nothing else, showing off his attractive expanse of skin and defined muscles.

"I... I don't – I just," Branch choked on his emotions, his palm flying to his chest as he heaved a shaky breath. The hand pressure relieved nothing as he felt the numerous trolls digging their curious and judgmental eyes every which-way into his flesh, pulling and ripping him apart from the inside out.

"Oh, you came!" squeaked a familiar voice. Poppy ran up to Branch's other side and gave him a quick hug, almost knocking him over. "And you brought Creek's yoga mat that he needed, right??" The pink troll smiled big at Branch and he looked down at the rolled mat under his arm and nodded weakly at her.

"Yeah… here, take it," Branch tried to push the item off on Creek, keeping his vision cast downward.

"But I don't need it. I obviously already have mine –" Creek started, but Poppy side-stepped and elbowed him in the rib cage. "Ack!"

"Oh, oops! Didn't see that coming. Anyway, if that's the case; Branch, why not stay awhile then? We always have room for one more," Poppy said quickly, taking Branch's arm and pulling him farther into the studio room near the rest of the yoga class. "Creek was just about to go through our stretching exercises, we're still only halfway through."

Whispers and murmurs started to unfurl among them, some making disapproving faces and others snickering behind their hands. Poppy whipped around and shot them a serious glare. The letter's true intentions were pieced together now while she was trying to get him to participate in another group activity. Poppy was probably tired of making him invitations and resorting to scheming and betrayal was the only way she could get what she wanted.

"Wait, no. I should uh, get going," Branch said quietly, trying to pull himself away from Poppy's grasp. "I can't do this." He couldn't be in this room with all these trolls who disliked him. There was too much stress. Too many whispers. He thought he was going to explode with all of the unwanted attention.

"No no no no," Poppy said. "You're already here! Just sit down. Sit!" Poppy grabbed his shoulders and forced Branch to the ground at the edge of the class next to Guy Diamond. Branch's knees buckled easily and he collapsed, sitting on his calves. Poppy unfurled the deep blue yoga mat and laid it down neatly next to him, giving it a gentle pat. "There we go, all set. That's all you need! Creek, please continue."

Branch shivered bodily and hugged himself around the middle, telling himself not to throw up. That would definitely be worse than anything.

Creek looked dumbfounded at the princess, "Poppy, my dear, he really doesn't have to –"

"Creek, please continue with the class," Poppy repeated, returning to her own pink colored mat that was nestled between Smidge and Harper. Both of them were astounded at her ability to control the grey troll. "Everyone is welcome here, right?" Poppy added. Her two friends nodded vigorously and smiled.

"The more the merrier, as I always say," Harper said.

"R-Right, of course," Creek said, showing Branch an apologetic frown then returning to his position at the front for his demonstrations.

Branch glanced over at Guy Diamond, who gave him a tiny smile and a small wave. He averted his eyes again and stared at the glossy wood floor, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. He would be the happiest troll if he could die right then.

Fear. Embarrassment. So much fear and regret. He wasn't friends with these trolls and swore he could hear what they were thinking. What's the ugly grey troll doing out in the open? Why is the nasty, mean troll here? He's going to ruin the fun. Sully the happiness. Destroy the mood and possibly rub his grey off on anyone near him. He could imagine them scooting away from him, leaving him isolated at the corner of the room. He was under lock and key by the princess and his fighting tongue was heavy with lead. Usually Poppy gave him the choice in participating in group activities (but of course, he always said no). This was different. He was being forced to deal with the crowd and it was killing him inside. Couldn't Poppy see that no one wanted him here but her? He didn't want to be 'that guy', messing with their activities and ruining their day. Branch had enough things to worry about in his life, he didn't need to add extra guilt to the platter.

A gentle, natural tune filled the void of the studio pod. Creek turned up the twinkling music from his radio box and set it aside for a soothing background sound. He walked to his deep violet mat on the floor and stood on it. All attention was on him now, the star of the stage. Branch lifted his head slightly to watch the troll class. Most of them were smiling, totally enraptured by Creek's presence. The light colored troll straightened his two-toned locks and took a deep breath, raising his arms above his head and pressing his palms together while lowering his body to the ground, sitting down on his knees.

"Release, friends. Let your tendrils of negativity loosen their grip and release the energy into the sky."

The troll class raised their arms up with him and stretched a sigh. There were subtle comments and bits of giggles. 'Oh, I love this part!' Biggie whispered. 'Oh yeah, get it. Get that stretch!' Smidge grunted, going above and beyond with her small arms and gritting her teeth with the strain.

Branch looked over at Guy Diamond again because he felt his eyes prodding. The silvery glitter troll gave him an encouraging nod to join in, discreetly pointing at the blue mat by Branch's side. The dark troll swallowed and shifted his trembling position on top of the mat. He closed his eyes, unable to look anywhere around him while he lifted his arms up with the rest of the class. Branch stretched and tried to think of absolutely nothing at all. He didn't want to know anymore. He didn't want to feel the eyes or hear the thoughts. He wanted to run but he couldn't, so blending in was the better option. His survival instincts were finally beginning to take over and his erratic emotions were shutting down.

Another audible gasp sounded when a couple of trolls noticed Branch joining the group stretch. Creek cleared his throat loudly to grab their attention. It didn't look like Creek was happy about the circumstances of his yoga class, but Branch felt a little more secure when the guru refused to let Branch be a free side show. "Downward now," he said sternly, leaning forward with his arms straight until his upper half was lying flat against the ground. "Release your negatives into the earth for our Mother to cleanse."

The rest of the troll class followed in suit. Branch swallowed slightly and attempted to mimic the movement. He'd seen Creek do this position before while they were camping at the waterfall. It didn't look that difficult... With his nose pressed against the floor and his palm on top of the other, Branch sighed and released the breath he was holding for who knows how long. He felt his muscles stretching along his stiff back and shoulders straining. It felt good, honestly.

"Hold the position, I need to help a few." He heard Creek say. Branch kept his eyes closed. The yoga mat smelled like cheap plastic. It was a different, bumpy kind of texture too.

Creek gently rose and walked towards his class, his bare feet padding without a sound. One after another he checked each troll's positioning. He went to Smidge and patted her arms, whispering for her to relax more. He made a comment to Harper and she giggled, adjusting her legs until Creek gave an approving nod. He walked to Cooper and put his hands on his hips, arching a brow when he noticed the fool was fast asleep with a snot bubble oozing out of his nose.

Closer now. Branch could feel Creek getting closer to him and his heart did a somersault. As if on queue, wafts of mint flavored aromas penetrated Branch's senses while Creek knelt next to him. He shivered bodily and tried to ignore it, but his lips opened and he released a single pant. Branch cracked his eyes open and spotted the tips of Creek's hair almost brushing the ground in front of his face while the troll leaned over his body. Blast his hair and everything attached to it, Branch thought bitterly. Creek moved and whispered to him, "Good form, for not having done it before. Try to align this more, though. It will feel better for your upper back." There was a gentle touch to the back of Branch's head at the very base of his hair line. "Right along here…" Creek guided his finger tip down the dip of his neck and over the bump of his spine. Branch shivered again and his eyelashes fluttered. A small noise of pleasure escaped his throat and his fingers dug into his yoga mat.

Creek retracted his hand quickly and stood up, his cheeks blasted with heat. Saying nothing of the matter, he returned to his own yoga mat and continued with the demonstrations. Branch sighed in relief when the minty smells evaporated and he tried to act like he didn't just have his eyes roll backwards. He started praying that his behaviors went unnoticed by everyone else. There was nothing he could do about the pull that Creek had on him. Between being controlled by Poppy and losing control by Creek, Branch was sick of being around both of them.

Each stretch and each different position had different reactions from the group of unruly trolls. They laughed when they became tangled and laughed when Guy accidentally let loose a poof of glitter while he was bending over.

"It's a blessing and a curse," he said with a defeated shrug.

"I believe we're done for today, after that," Creek said with an exhausted sigh. "I doubt we can recapture the mood after it's been ruined in such a way."

"Nice one, Guy!" Smidge laughed triumphantly, jumping up and down.

"Ahhh… This session was quite wonderful, wasn't it?" Biggie said pleasantly, rolling up his extra large yoga mat. "I can't wait until we do it again next week. I also can't wait to get home to Mr. Dinkles!"

Through the colorful sea of chattering trolls, Poppy's ears perked up and she made a dramatic O-face. "Oh, Biggie! You left Mr. Dinkles alone at home?"

"Heavens, no," the big blue troll waved his hand. "He's with King Peppy right now. Peppy is such a good babysitter, I'm sure they're reading stories together or sipping hot tea as we speak."

Just then, Creek bustled through the troll class as they were packing up their belongings and filing out the door, looking almost distraught as he reached Biggie. "Where is he," he asked. "Do you know where King Peppy is right now? I really need to talk to him."

"Well, uh… no, I don't. They could be anywhere right now, but King Peppy said he'd meet me at the bakery to pick up Mr. Dinkles after yoga class. They should be headed that way right about now. That cute little worm loves his after-lunch cookies and –"

"Thanks." Creek brushed past Biggie and Poppy quickly, not looking back or giving any explanation to his sudden awkward behavior.

"That was weird. I wonder what's gotten into him?" Biggie asked with a pout.

On the other side of the room, Branch was still sitting on his mat with his face in his hands, waiting for the rest of the trolls to vacate the area so he could manage to pull himself together. Guy Diamond observed the dark troll and decided to sit down next to him with a light whistle, dragging his eyes away to watch the rest of his friends in the Snack Pack leave the studio.

"Not a fan of yoga?" Guy asked lightly..

Branch visibly stiffened on the defense but didn't respond.

Guy drummed his glittering fingers along the wood boards, then crossed his arms and leaned forward so that his face was tilted down, leveled with Branch. "Your hair is a little bit more shlumpy than normal. Do you want to talk about it?"

Branch grunted with distaste, "My hair is always like this. If you're going to make fun of me could you do it at a distance?"

Guy Diamond made a toothy grin and shook his head, "I'm not going to make fun of you. I'm just curious, that's all. I think it's amazing that you're even here!"

"I'm not here by choice," Branch said grimly.

"Ah, but you're still here, all the same," Guy mused. "I think that if you really didn't want to be here, you wouldn't be. I can't count on both of my hands how many times I've seen you stomp away from something you didn't want to do. Poppy means well, you know. She always has some kind of agenda –"

Branch growled and lifted his head, his obvious displeasure of talking was written all over his face. "What's your motive," he asked harshly. "Is there something you want from me?"

Guy Diamond chuckled and clambered to his feet, rubbing his hands on his knees then resting them on his bare hips. "That's better now, isn't it?" he asked, ignoring Branch's threatening expression. "Feeling grumpy is better than feeling sad sometimes. See you later." Guy tossed him a seductive wink then walked away with a shake of his hips.

Branch blinked slightly then averted his eyes from the silver ass that Guy was trying to put on display. His ears twitched and he smiled quietly, agreeing with what the glitter troll said. It was true, he felt better when he was grumpy. Guy Diamond had an annoying, overbearing personality like the rest of the lot, but Branch had to give it to him. He had a good head on his shoulders when the time was right. Renewed with short burst of energy, Branch got to his feet and quickly rolled up his mat, throwing it under his arm. The dark troll secretly stepped along the back end of the emptying studio to avoid an encounter with Poppy or any other troll that might look his way. He just had to grab his bag of mushrooms and then get the hell back to his bunker where it was safe.