24 Chapter Twenty-Four

Blankets of snow laid over the valley during the night. It was clean and soft, the landscape glowing with a sparkling winter beauty come morning. The sun rose as it always did and shined through a cloudless sky, bringing out the small flocks of birds and critters who began their routinely scavenge. At the edge of the massive lake that seemed to stretch for eons, Creek had managed to climb up a particularly large stone overlooking the dark water, dusting off the snow and adjusting his bottom to the chill. He shivered and puffed hot air into his hands, rubbing them together then digging his fists into Diego's jacket pockets. He observed the breathtaking view, the lake having succumbed to a thin sheet that crumbled easily under the warming sun. It created slushy pockets and shifting tiles that were nitpicked by swimming fish below the ripples.

It was still incredibly early in the morning and Diego was contently snoring like a beast in their makeshift shelter. Creek took the liberty of renewing the fire and sweeping their tools out the recent snowfall, then came to what he'd dubbed his private meditation spot in order to gather his thoughts and ponder up with a plan.

He tucked his chin to his chest and closed his eyes, shoulders stiffening against a fresh gust of breeze. He let the sun's rays sink into his skin and soaked in the energy, sighing out the accumulated negative vibes. The center of his chest had a constant throb of pain and Creek mentally tried to soothe himself, clearing his thoughts of everything about what he was going to do that day and focused in on one image. Black depths behind closed eyes… blank minded, slow breathing. Creek listening to the songs of nature and felt the prickling of the weather along the skin of his cheeks. He sat unmoved, relaxing into his meditation while piecing together an image of his mate. The edges of his mind expanded slowly, reaching through the empty space between him and Branch. He let his energy run free, grasping at the void that would connect him to the grey troll that was so incredibly far away.

Over the weeks, each of Creek's attempts came up empty handed but he couldn't bring himself to stop trying. Soul mates were supposed to have an other-worldly connection, something they could both feel when they needed each other the most, and Creek wanted Branch to feel him; even just to let him know that he was coming soon and to hold on tight. He put all of his knowledge to use in every session, Creek's determination to get back to troll village stronger than anything else. It didn't matter if his leg became irreparable. It didn't matter if the trek would be dangerous, or if he got even more lost. Creek couldn't sit around any longer waiting for something to happen.

The black mob buried in his chest drove through his heart with an aggressive blade, twisting through his resolves without mercy in an attempt to cripple Creek's aura. Drawing in a deliberate breath, Creek calmly settled the invisible attack with his jaw tightening a minute degree. He wasn't going to let it win, not while he could still breathe.

It wasn't normal… it wasn't natural. A serious plague that wandered unchecked could only be coming from Branch himself. Between confusing nightmares, intense feelings and chaotic visions whenever Creek had a moment to himself, he could safely assuming that Branch was going through an emotional torment that would ultimately end up killing him. The effects of his mental state were demons in flight, circling Creek like starved birds after they've done their fair share of scouring on his other half. They were waiting for the guru to let his guard down, gunning for a chance to steal what little strength he had left to fight off the advances. If Creek could feel how Branch was feeling, then there had to be a way to return to call and let Branch know he was alive. It was a pity that these moments were becoming do or die, it was such a beautiful day.

Sinking effortlessly deeper into his self awareness, the noises and feelings around Creek began to fade out into the distance. His skin tingled until it was numb and his ears closed to the random rustlings of nature. Creek's chest rose and fell slowly with his natural breathing and his muscles relaxed farther, silence enveloping his psyche. Dear Mother, I've relied many times on you, Creek wistfully thought. I need you to guide me once more, for the sake of someone other than myself. An eternity of time passed and Creek let go of the hold on the material world. The comfort of nothing wrapped the troll in a unique territory that wasn't visited often enough. Each flicker of thought and twitch of a nerve sent him deeper down a path unbeknownst to anyone but himself.

Then, he felt it.

- - - - - - -

Branch was sitting cross legged on the upper level of his bunker. The floor was dusty, the entire room dark and freezing cold from the outside weather. The sun had barely come up over the horizon but he had stayed completely awake through the night, so it didn't really matter when the sun rose. It's not like he could see it.

Branch stared dead-eyed at the glimmering metal plating bolted over the ceiling hatch. He'd been looking at the plate for hours now, unmoved from the position with a half-empty glass bottle hanging loosely in his palm. Wandering through his bunker without a coherent goal, Branch ended up rummaging through Creek's possessions and fell upon multiple bottles of alcohol made with King Peppy. They were branded with different strengths and flavors, truly showing that Creek had a passion for the craft. Branch knew it was wrong for him to be messing with things like this but he was saying screw it to rules, barriers, and screw it to whatever Creek's spirit would say about him drowning himself in liquor. He was a full grown troll and of course he couldn't handle it well enough but honestly speaking, the buzzed sensations were a sweet relief.

Two entire bottles drained with a third on the way and there was nothing else Branch wanted to do or think about, so he planned on double checking his Bergen-proof lock down mechanisms to make sure everything was secure. He dragged his tired and burning body up the elevator shaft, clinging to his drink and using the lever for anchorage. After opening the electrical panel in the wall and poking his tools aimlessly through the mess of mediocre, home-made engineering, Branch went to plopping himself on the floor and crawling back into his head space. There was no doubt about his contraptions, they were working perfectly as intended and a trickle of disappointment made itself known. He was really going to be in the bunker, alone with himself and his own untrustworthy brain, for the next decade.

Leaning heavily to the side, Branch let his body lay down to rest on the dirty floor. He kept his fuzzy gaze trained on the bunker hatch, contemplating his swirling feelings. Disappointment. Regret. Loneliness. It was pointless to second guess his choices now, however. He'd already sealed the deal and thrown away the key.

Branch's eyelids fluttered and he let loose a deep, shivering wheeze. The cold air was numbing him in a pleasant sort of way. He could smell wafts of his own putrid breath and let the bottle roll out of his grip.

You know what makes you so special?

"No... what?" Branch responded to the silence.

Everything!

The small, adorable voice of a younger Creek poked at his flushed ear tips. The purple trolling from his memories frolicked through his mind's eye like it was his personal playground and Branch let him, smiling slightly at the remembrance of the little happiness he once felt so long ago.

"Everything? Really?" Branch smiled.

The two friends were crouched on their heels at the base of the old troll tree in a patch of wild flowers. The colors of the small sprouts were like a twisting rainbow carved through the grass and up the giant roots, dancing lightly with the wind and tickling their ankles. Branch was using a tuft of royal purple hair to grasp a bundle of flowers that he'd been picking one by one. He picked another that had a vibrant pink hue and inspected it with a satisfied nod before slipping the stalk with the rest of his collection.

"I mean it, though," Creek continued, idly dusting his finger tips through the flower heads between them while Branch continued his task. "You're a really special troll. I think Mrs. Rosiepuff will cry when you give her this present."

"I don't want to make Grandma cry," Branch commented with a tiny furrow in his brow, "Just smile."

"Cry in a good way," Creek amended. "Because she would be so happy. You make me feel like that too." The brighter trolling looked up from the patch and watched the way Branch was so adamant about choosing the right colors for his bouquet. Branch looked up as well as saw the softness in his eyes, a dark blush coming to his cerulean cheeks.

"I make you want to cry?" Branch asked worriedly, still a bit confused. His way of thinking was blunt and innocent but it didn't bother Creek at all. He smiled at Branch and nodded, plucking a daisy with purple petals and tucking it next to Branch's ear as a gift.

"In a good way," he repeated fondly.

Branch blushed more and searched the ground for a blue flower, taking it up and mirroring the same action Creek just did. He stuck the stem of it into Creek's longer hair, though a little more awkwardly, and the trolling blinked and glanced up at it with a giant grin. His happiness was enough to make the freckles on his cheeks sparkle a silver glow. Branch couldn't help but return a bigger smile and they both giggled at their silliness. Just then, their hug time bracelets bloomed with a familiar musical charm and they looked at each other, cheeks hot and colored. Branch opened his arms and pulled the other trolling in tight. He hugged him with all of his happiness, wishing he never had to let go.

Branch could remember the way he felt back then, so simple and carefree. He remembered how the feelings blossomed inside his stomach like roses in their prime and how much he loved it when Creek smiled at him over the smallest instances. He was taken care of like a precious gem stone. The more he thought about their past, the more apparent Creek's love for him came through. They were so young, barely understanding what the word love even was, yet it was there. He never thought too hard about all the things that made his heart flutter. It was just pure happiness and he took it for granted. He missed it… He missed those feelings. He missed Creek. If he could just see him again Branch swore he'd change his lifestyle for the better. He'd do anything to get him back. He would try to smile more, just for him, and make friends with other trolls if that's what Creek really wanted. He would even sing if his heart desired to hear it. So many things Branch would give up completely to get a second chance at learning what it would be like to be in love.

Consciousness starting to slip away, the bunker hatch became fuzzier and fuzzier. Branch let the weight of his head fall to the side. On the verge of falling asleep, his body felt warmer than what the drink gave. The grey troll swallowed slightly and shifted on the ground, curling into himself. Heat flowed into all of his limbs and spread like water, touching every crevice and curve that he owned. It even smoothed over the pain in his heart, magically relieving some of the pressure. Branch breathed heavily but didn't move, letting this unexpected caress work its way in. The lift gave way to a fresh emotional flow and his eyes watered. He squint hard at the tears then opened his eyes back up to a surprising vision that caused his lower lip to tremble.

Flickering faintly like a ghost in shadows, Creek's image laid on the floor facing him, their bodies just a breath apart. Branch stared into the depths of the lilac gaze, his tears rolling freely now and making a mess of his cheeks and nose. It definitely wasn't real but he couldn't help but feel so incredibly happy and relieved to see him.

"Creek," Branch whispered, watching the other troll reach out their hand in an attempt to caress over his wet cheek and around his ear. His skin tingled where the contact would be and it only made his heart more unstable. Creek looked as sad as Branch felt so he tried to return the loving touch, his hand slipping under Creek's chin to raise his face closer. The movement went through the faded air with zero resistance and caused the entirety of the visage to wither out of his sight. The last look he gave before he disappeared was pained, his eyebrows cinched and eyes darkened.

Met with a clearly empty bunker once more, feeling more alone than ever before, Branch covered his face with his palms to muffle a loud, frustrated noise. It lasted only seconds, but seeing Creek was enough to break him up all over again.

- - - - - - -

Hey, hey!

Hey! Over here!

Creek's mouth twitched and he scrunched his face in anger, trying with losing patience to hold on to the relaxing realm formed in his mind. He'd just had a dying vision of Branch and was desperately piecing together the image in a hurry as the parts escaped his hands. All he could make out was the grey troll laying somewhere dark and cold. He wanted to reach out to him, to touch him so badly and tell him he was on the way. If only he could have some peace and quiet.

"Wait, here! Yes, YES!"

Finally, Creek snapped his eyes open and turned aggressively behind himself to glare at Diego who'd been yelling randomly and running around with his arms waving.

"Do you bloody mind?!" Creek barked at him. "I am trying to meditate! I thought you were asleep."

The green party crasher didn't seem the least bit offended while he grinned wide at the sky with his eyes shining. "I've been awake. You've been out here for hours, ya know? But you can keep on sittin' there doing nothing," he said happily, "while I get out of this dump! My crew – my friends are here, Creek! Look, they're comin'!"

Disbelieving, Creek craned to look in the pointed direction and had to keep his jaw from dropping out of his face. Sure enough, as Diego exclaimed, there was a speckling of dark objects flying over the lake in their direction. Beetlebike critters of different sizes and colors, with equally daunting party crashers riding on their shells, flew fast and furious over the wind towards their camp. At the lead of the pack was a smaller male, jumping up to stand on the back of his ride and he waved his arms sporadically in the same manner that Diego had done. Creek scrambled off his boulder when the critters swooped in over his head with the loudest wing beats he'd ever heard in his life. The noise echoed through the canyon and no one seemed rattled by it but himself. He covered his ears and stared while a total of five party crashers touched down at the edge of the lake, dustings of snow and lighter pebbles whipping up and swirling around them. The smaller one jumped from his beetle and ran into Diego, grabbing him in a hug.

"Oh my God, I found you!" he cried out happily with a sharp grin. They shared the same number of pointed teeth and a greenish complexion. All of the crashers did, actually. Each one of them wasn't far off from the other, complete with the same violet webbed mohawk, bald heads, and leather apparel that was more rebellious than a trolling on a sugar high.

Diego took his friend by the shoulders and shook him excitedly, "I can't believe it, you're actually here," he laughed. "It took ya long enough, man! I thought you've forgotten 'bout me by now. What happened?"

"We realized you were missing when we stopped a month later at an all-you-can-eat buffet, I turned to talk to you about this amazing cheesecake platter but you weren't there! Do you know how many parties we had to back track to get to this point?!"

"I have an idea, since it took ya the better half of a year to find me!"

While Creek was still sitting on the ground completely awestruck, a large, scary-looking female approached the troll and he shrank back defensively when she offered her scaly hand to help him up. "Hey, you okay?" she said, her voice at least ten octaves lower than Creek expected. He nodded faintly and took her hand, still undecided if he should trust the group of ruffians that just showed up to snatch up their friend out of the wilderness. The butch party crasher lifted him by the hand as if he were a sack of feathers and set Creek on his feet, slapping a rough pat on his shoulder.

Diego's ecstatic friend looked over in Creek's direction while they were discussing their similar events that led up to this travesty, then he abruptly stopped talking and pointed at the troll with a gasp. "What are you doing here, Creek?!"

Creek blinked at him, only realizing now exactly who this party crasher was while the creature ran up to him with Diego on his tail.

"Asher? Er, Ka-blooey, was it?" he questioned, trying to jog his memory.

"Ka-boom," he replied with an annoyed look. "Calling me Asher is just fine, you know."

"Right, right, of course," Creek said with an awkward smile. Asher and the village had gone through a tornado of drama ages ago, but Poppy deemed him to be one of the trolls in the end. Him and the village were on the friendliest of terms, but Creek was still unsure about all of his buddies. It didn't look to be a problem though, they were acting friendly enough and Asher strut around as the leader of his pack. He'd never really talked to this guy before but Poppy only mentioned good things.

Diego came up to Creek's side and laid his arm around the troll's shoulders in an awkward side hug. "This fella here," he said with a chuckle, "has been just as lost as me for the last four weeks. It was quite the luck, us meeting together. You two know each other?"

"Lost?" Asher said with a frown, jutting a thumb in Diego's direction. "How did you get lost like this loser over here?"

"What the blazin' did you say?" Diego commented, lower lip pouting out.

Asher ignored him with a prominent eye roll then pulled Creek aside, away from the other party crashers. The purple troll glanced back at the group when they were out of ear shot and Asher looked from the fading wounds on his face to the splint on his leg. He put his hand in his pants pocket to pull out a very tiny, clear jar filled with the smallest white berries. "Princess Poppy would be very upset if I didn't help you get back to your village," he started, twisting open the jar. "We're friends now, I have to do my part!"

"So I've heard," Creek said with a raise in his brow, feeling very wary about the unfamiliar berries that Asher was now offering to him.

"First, eat a few of these and it'll help your leg feel better. A sort of pain killer, so to speak. These wild winters can provide very magical things," he said with a wink, placing a good amount into the troll's palm. "You probably won't get any side affects. Maybe. I've never seen a troll eat them before, though."

"Side affects?" Creek grimaced at the offering but decided that he could afford a risk or two, he was Poppy's friend after all. He threw the fruit into his mouth quickly and swallowed most of it without chewing. They were tasteless.

"Anyway, I don't know how you got out here, but you're not far off from Troll village. Take my beetlebike," Asher said, gesturing over to his large red and black critter was that currently grooming itself with its segmented forelegs. "It's the fastest one alive and it'll get you home in no time. Just head Eastward, up and over the cliff side, and you'll see your troll tree from the sky!"

- - - - -

He couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm done. I'm done with this!"

Branch got up from the floor in a haste and pulled the level on his elevator to take him down. His eyes were puffy and his breath ragged, but everything in his heart and mind was beginning to blaze red. He was angry now. Angry at his own self; angry at the world. He contemplated everything that'd happened, went on the roller coaster of doubt while doing what he could do, and now he's decided that Creek couldn't be dead. Deep in his gut, Branch knew. Poppy wouldn't let him search but now Branch's life was his own and, by God, he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted. He wanted to spend the rest of the time he had alive searching for his mate, and that was that! Every time Branch told himself that Creek was dead, it felt like a lie. He was tired of lying to himself and being held up in this dark hole when the true answers he sought were sitting right outside the bunker. As much as he loved his home, it had turned into a prison and he wanted out!

Throwing the lever into the stop position halfway down, Branch practically kicked open the door to one of the many rooms that stored his rations and supplies. The area was filled to the brim with his excavation material. Shovels, lanterns, helmets, pickaxes, and the like. Branch moved to a wooden crate at the side and ripped off the top, nails popping out and pouncing to the floor. His eyes were flaming when he dug a piece of dynamite from the crate. The full stick was encased in a red sleeve with a black cap, the fuse twisted slightly from storage. Branch used these homemade explosives when he was expanding the lower levels of his survival bunker. After meeting a comfortable amount of space, this room went entirely unused for many years. Today, however, he was going to burst out of his own confinement.

Leaving everything behind except for a pack of matches, Branch went back to the upper level and rudely stuffed the stick between the paneled entrance and the rocky, carved ceiling. Packing the metal crevice tight so the dynamite wouldn't fall out, his hands held the match box shakily. Branch gripped his own wrist momentarily to try and calm down, but there were erratic butterflies doing acrobats inside his stomach. He didn't know if he was frightened or excited, or both, but the troll was bound determined to get out, even if it meant destroying his beloved bunker. There was something he loved more now.

Without anymore second guessing, he struck the match and lit the fuse. The sparks were white and wild and Branch's eyes grew wide.

"Oh my God, I actually lit the damn thing!?" he cried out, backing up quickly and running far to the other side of the room, dodging and jumping over his Bergen claw traps strewn on the floor. Wanting to do something this crazy and going through with it were two completely and utterly different things. A mere handful of seconds later, the blast from the dynamite blew vertically, filling the bunker with a cloud of thick smoke and dust. The entrance above was no longer a hatch but a gaping hole that cried freedom. Branch coughed from the smoke and feebly waved at the air, taking ginger steps around the sharp metal pieces.

Branch peeked up through the hole, the bright blue sky greeting him with open arms. He smiled and stretched out his black hair to fling himself out into the daytime. A little overzealous in his escape, the troll gasped when he dropped into a pile of snow large enough to consume him. The flames of determination flickered deep within Branch's core, pushing him forward with a strength he hadn't felt in years. An invisible hand shoved aggressively at his back while he reached and grabbed onto the nearest gnarled pile of roots to drag himself out of the snow pile.

"Facing forward... lights out, I won't stop running," Branch sang to himself, his motivation growing exponentially when he stood up and smacked the clumps of snow from his pants. His throat felt dry from breathing the frozen air, but he couldn't help himself from continuing the lyrics. "Falling backwards, hands tied, I won't stop running..." The corner of Branch's mouth upturned slightly when he spotted a clear path through the trees, though now only skeletons of their former glory. The area felt fresh and free, a light breeze threading through his hair and making him shiver in pleasure. He wouldn't stop. He couldn't, not when he knew deep down in his gut that Creek was out there somewhere waiting for him. "I'll take another sunrise; another hand to hold tight. This isn't over. I am way too young and I won't stop running."

Branch started to jog, his breath coming in short pants while he crushed through the snow at an increasingly faster pace. This was it, this is what he's wanted to do ever since Creek disappeared over the cliff. He didn't know where he would be or if Branch would ever go back to Troll Village, but the unknown before him was all Branch wanted to see. His limbs felt frozen, the ice seeping deep to his bones until it was painful, but the ache in his chest could never be compared.

"I don't know how much longer I can fake it – That it's all alright, that I can do this alone and I know that life is what you make it, but it's hard to see stars when you're always caught in the folds – Every night in my mind it's a fight… but I won't stop dreaming, 'cause this isn't over. It's never over."

With the alcohol burning out of his system, his needs became clearer. They fueled him to go harder in order to achieve them. Fighting off King Peppy and Poppy, he'd hoped to start this search long before now. They should have let him go because there was no telling what kind of dangers or hardships Creek could be facing. Branch had convinced himself that his mate was dead at the bottom of his despair, even when the knowing feeling had never really left him. He was tired of letting his emotions run his life. He wanted to follow his instincts, and they were pulling him in a direction that could only be towards his soul mate.

Taking a sudden slide down a steep slope, Branch gasped slightly and skidded until he was on level ground, ducking around low hanging boughs and flinching at a flock of birds that rustled and broke free from their roost above his head. He ignored the pounding of his heart and almost laughed at his trembling fears, using his hair to swing himself back into the momentum, turning the jog into a full blown sprint through the forest. The dark trunks and branches of trees were nothing but a blur in his peripherals. His true, blood-born instincts were raw and straight forward, and they were merciless in their inclusion for the need to sing his heart out. "I'd rather be the one that starts the fire than to shut my mouth and be the one who gets burned! Yeah, it is what it is, but I wanna go higher... 'cause I felt it once before. I believe the tables will turn. I wanna love and be the one who is loved! No, I won't stop dreaming, 'cause this isn't over. It's never over..."

He ran forever until his lungs were seizing. Branch shoved his hands into his arm pits and forced his legs to keep moving. He knew he was slowing down but there was only so much he could do against the freezing element. Branch rattled his head roughly while running to shake off some snow that'd fallen into his hair.

He felt so tired now. The physical pain was becoming too much. His entire body was heavy, unmovable lead. Branch finally collapsed on his knees, his breath ragged and harsh from over exertion. He gripped his fingers into his chest and heaved for oxygen, bowing his face forward with his eyes closed. Sweat dripped off his nose and his vest felt twisted and damp. A hard chill shook him roughly and he groaned in his panting, rubbing his hands on his upper arms to try and get rid of it. Could he really keep going like this? He had no equipment, no protection, and he was traveling blindly without any logical plans. Motivation ran dry the longer he thought about what the hell he was doing. Cracking his eyes open, Branch took a look at his surroundings briefly then his eyes widened at the sight.

His waterfall…?

Somehow, without evening realizing it, Branch had ran all the way to his secluded sanctuary, his favorite spot to relax and get away from the harsh irrationality of his village. His sanctuary that he had shared with Creek for a few awkward nights. It was the first time Creek had tried to be kind to him in all of their squabbling and ignoring each other. Branch had taken it for granted when it was so obvious now that Creek was genuine.

Opalescent river stones outlined the trickling river in a sparkling weave that flowed from the downpour of the waterfall and through the rest of the forest. Every boulder and ledge carried a pocket of snow like a soft white cap. The edges of the running water were beginning to crystallize but it wasn't enough to slow it down quite yet. Branch stood up from his knees and wobbled slightly, carefully walking to the river and dipping his cupped hands into the clear liquid to take a drink.

It was just like before. He'd done this exact same action before meeting with Creek again. Branch drank the icy water and shivered heavily, either from the deja vu or from the breeze freezing his sweat, then returned his arms around to hold himself. Tired and run down, he sat in the snowy pebbles and watched the cascading falls with a bittersweet expression. His breath puffed large white clouds and he swore he couldn't hardly feel his feet anymore. The weather was just too much to handle without a coat, a scarf, or even boots. He was a real idiot for leaving the bunker without taking those items with him, but at the moment he just felt too weary to care. So what if he was cold? So what if he was alone? Watching the falls sparkle and dance was easily the most relaxing thing he'd ever seen.

Branch stared at the waterfall for so long he could watch the shadows shift as the sun made it's way across the sky. "I won't stop dreaming… 'cause this isn't over," he sang quietly. A deeper chill crawled across his skin and Branch trembled, closing his tired eyes. "It can't be over, can it?" he asked himself in a mere whisper. He hunkered in and put his forehead on the top of his knees. Familiar shackles threw themselves over his shoulders and tied him down, body becoming heavier and harder to move. He couldn't stay here… He had to keep moving, but...

Balled up against the cold, Branch extended his hair and wrapped it around himself like a makeshift cocoon. It would hold him for awhile, if he could stay conscious. He would just sit and rest… Just for a little while. Not a minute longer.

- - - - -

Back at Troll Village, Poppy and Guy Diamond were shuffling around outside of Branch's survival bunker, arguing with each other about their recent discovery.

The two trolls had met up for lunch that day and Guy Diamond was testing a new invention he'd made specifically for glitter trolls and their hatred of winter. Oddly, yet not oddly enough, the cold weather forced all trolls to bundle up in their scarfs and jackets but glitter trolls had a strong disdain towards clothing of every kind. Guy Diamond was no different and could only wear garments for a short time – specifically five minutes tops. Guy sprayed himself down with a patent pending aerosol can of 'Cold-b-Gone', the thin, clear coat acting as a shield against the ice.

Now here they were, inspecting the metal remains from the destroyed door that littered the ground. The plot of snow around the bunker hatch was shifted and ashy and there were fresh footprints trailing from the bunker to the forest, or the forest to the bunker? They weren't quite sure which way.

"Branch!? Branch, are you in there?" Poppy called worriedly into the gaping hole of the entrance. She could see the shambles of the door inside the upper room as well. Her voice echoed to the depths with no answer in return.

"With all due respect, Poppy," Guy started, "You've been coming here every day hoping that Branch opens his bunker back up to us. I think we should leave him alone!" Guy Diamond crossed his arms tightly, then immediately tried to peel them back apart. His invention was going through a few bugs that still needed to be worked out. He unstuck his arms and grunted, "If Branch wanted our help, he would have asked."

Poppy shot the glitter troll a hot glare and tossed down the metal chunk she'd been inspecting. "Branch doesn't ever ask for help, even if he really needs it. If someone didn't break in, then that means he broke out. We have to go find him."

"We should wait for him to come back," Guy refused. "You're always pushing your way around without listening to his feelings. Don't you remember how he acted when you forced that yoga class down his throat?"

"He's sick right now!" Poppy cried out. "What else can I do? And don't be sticking the blame for that on my shoulders, you helped out with that one too."

"Alright, alright," Guy Diamond said, then gestured to the destroyed remains and cocked his brow, "But how can a sick troll manage something like this?" he asked. "He obviously has an agenda that he needs to work out himself. It looks to me like he finally realized holing himself up in that… that 'hole', was a mistake."

Back and forth with two different views, they weren't getting anywhere useful. Poppy was just about to give in to Guy Diamond's way when their ears perked up to a strong wing beat. The sound became louder and louder, headed in their direction and they looked up to the sky in unison. A giant, red beetlebike was swooping down towards them at a breakneck speed with no intention of slowing down. Poppy and Guy cried out and took a dive into the snow in opposite directions just as the critter tumbled into the ground with a less than graceful crash landing. It slid roughly and bumped sideways into the nearest tree. The bug shook its head dizzily then ran its forelegs over its long black antennae with a low hum.

"I know I said to hurry, but that was ridiculous," Creek said with a sickening groan, slipping off the back of the ride and trying to stand up straight on the ground. His world was spinning after the land and his stomach wanted to turn inside out.

Poppy stared at Creek and covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide. He turned slightly and spotted her, then gave the warmest smile that could melt winter itself. She ran full force towards the purple troll and they hugged tightly, Poppy whining into his chest.

"Creek – Creek! You're alive!" she cried out, her voice turning into a soft squeak from all the emotions.

"This is the happiest day of my life," Guy whimpered and wiped his face of the tears that were leaking from his own eyes, then joined them in the tight hug. Their reunion was short lived when both Creek and Poppy inched back from the glitter troll with a twisted face of disgust, their clothes sticking to his silvery skin like it was covered in candy tack. "My bad," Guy grinned and pulled himself away to unstick them.

"We can hug much more later," Creek affirmed, taking Poppy's hands then and squeezing them. "I will tell you everything that's happened, but right now I need to know. Is Branch here? Where is he, tell me where he is." His voice was urgent, eyes searching Poppy's face for any negative signs that would give away a secret he wasn't quite ready to hear.

"O-Oh, uh… I don't know," she admitted, sniffing again and wiping her face dry with her coat sleeve. "We just got here and his bunker is blown out... He's out there somewhere, in the forest. He locked himself in and then broke out! I don't understand what Branch is thinking right now."

"Then I have to go," Creek said, turning back to the beetlebike and beckoning it to help him back up its shell.

Poppy wanted to say something but her throat was tight and she raised her hand slowly as if to stop him, but she didn't know how to say it. Creek hopped up on the critter and winced, then Poppy noticed the limp and splint on his leg and she grabbed his arm fast, "Wait, you're hurt!" she said quickly. "Is it broken? You can't, Creek. We should get you to a doctor first!"

From the top of the critter, Creek pried her hand off gently and gave it a kiss at the back, "I missed you too, Poppy. I know you are worried about me disappearing again," he said knowingly, "but I will be back. And I'll have Branch with me." It killed him to leave one of his best friends like this, but the grey troll could be anywhere at this point and Creek wracked his brain for a clue, kicking the bug into gear. Time was of the essence and he had already run out of time weeks ago, so he was going to use Asher's critter to the upmost advantage while he had it. Its wings split out and thrummed in a blur then it jumped off the ground with a deafening force, heading back into the sky.