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UNSPOKEN

A Dreamworks Trolls Fanfic by C. Prince

Journey to Trollberg

That morning he'd gone ahead and scouted the day's journey by air. His plan was to get everyone to Bergentown in three days, but if he spotted potential trouble a delay couldn't be helped.

The royal flyer bug was fast, much faster than any bug he'd been on. She had thick bands of color ringed along her streamlined body, feathered antennae, and four translucent wings that were a blur in flight. Her speed was in part due to her small size. Only one troll could ride.

When the convoy departed Branch took the lead, Smidge held the rear guard, and Cooper was around… somewhere. They followed the Bergentown bus route. In theory it was safe, but a caterbus was a significantly faster critter than the transports. As far as he was concerned, they were a slow-moving rainbow target that needed to stop and rest each night. A target that happened to be of the novelty singing and dancing persuasion.

The first leg of the trip was the easiest and morale would still be high so he pushed the pace.

Orange and red spongy stalks opened up to flat, packed earth and towering trunks stripped bare of all leaves. The trunks pierced the clouds. Among the shorter stakes it was possible to see thick mats of nesting material. Monoptic birds flocked here. With only one eye the predators weren't terribly good at spotting prey, but they were attracted to noise.

He'd do a full musical number in his bunny pajamas on top of mushroom square before he let any stinking bird swipe someone away. Branch clicked on a megaphone and turned to address the group while it was still safe. "Alright, listen up."

Everyone put their singing on hold.

"New game: we're going to play telephone." He got cheers for that. "Everyone who plays gets to have fun. Everyone who doesn't play, dies."

The trolls exchanged looks, shrugging and giggling at what they figured was weird dark Branch humor. Which it was. "Sounds fair to me!" someone in the middle said.

"Road trip rule: don't share the original message until you get the megaphone. I'll start."

He whispered to the first troll an alliterative story about singing spiders. It was sure to be mangled beyond recognition by the time it circled both sides of the convoy.

They traveled in blissful silence. If he'd told them to be quiet it would've lasted five minutes. The game, on the other hand, kept them occupied through the worst territory and then some. Save the occasional stifled laugh there was no singing, no music, and no talking.

Redirection was Poppy's technique, not his. He'd seen her use it dozens of times. Mess up a party? Point out the better one over there. Keep kids out of the cookies? Show them a cool party trick. Massive society-wide panic? Hit the cowbell and start a song.

Her people skills were remarkable. He wished she were here. At least her tricks worked when he used them.

The convoy reached the red thorn thicket near sundown. Branch passed down the megaphone, everyone getting a good laugh at the garbled telephone messages. Inside the prickly confines of red and white barbs they broke camp, cutting into the food and water supply.

Branch was immediately grateful for Poppy's decision to include Cooper. Bored trolls were a liability. Cooper was a fountain of fun. Any time the crew spent too long thinking of what to do next, Cooper jumped in with a suggestion. At the moment he had everyone twisting candy cane vines into crazy shapes.

Branch dug a knife out of his pack and shaved a long, thin strip from a vine. He stretched it out and it stayed flat. He twisted the ends to make a spiral, and pressed that flat. The twizzle didn't try to spring back up. Poppy would probably like it for scrapbooking. He shucked thorns off of some small vine sections and rolled them into tight coils to take home.

Well, he obviously couldn't stop thinking about Poppy. It was going to be a long three weeks.

To bypass part of the desert they went through the rainbow rain caves. Branch stayed behind the procession for a while because no troll could resist the temptation to frolic in the ripples of liquid color on the cave floors. From the rear he could catch any stragglers. Plus, if he splashed in some puddles too nobody had to know.

Life is great
Life is grand
Don't listen to Branch
Don't listen to Branch

He picked up the megaphone. "Yeah can we change the song to literally anything else?"

"But it's so catchy," Smidge complained.

"Guess I won't teach you the even catchier song I was saving for tonight."

The trolls immediately changed the tune.

A growing pinhole of white hot light marked the cavern end. There wasn't enough room in the transports for everybody, so each crew member decided whether they wanted to play hot or cold.

An audible groan came from the group as they stepped out of the fun and into the sun. The melting sand plain was dotted with massive bleached white bones. Any creature with a skeleton that size would have no trouble crossing the desert. Why, then, were there bones? He tried not to dwell on it.

Poppy and Smidge's flyer bugs perched on the moving beetles. A flyer's feet weren't made for walking in extreme climates.

After an hour in the blaze no one felt like talking anymore. Muffled chatter from within the delivery beetles was their only company besides the hollow hush and sifting sand. Motes of yellow dust floated in the air. Branch's mind floated with them.

When he'd finally caught up with Poppy after realizing she was in fact crazy enough to go to Bergentown alone, she'd been burned, frost bitten, scratched up, smeared with soot, flushed red, and slightly puffy from what he later discovered was eating something poisonous. It was difficult to tally the injuries because she bounced around so much.

Eventually he'd forced her to stop at a stream to clean up and treat the burns.

"Put this on," he said.

"Why? What is it?"

"Could you just do what I say for once?"

"What, this, or the part about getting eaten by bloodthirsty bergens?"

"Both!" He shoved the jar of salve into Poppy's hands.

The memories were kind of innocent and cute. If Poppy ran off like that now he'd lose his mind.

Nobody's burns would be bad today. The trolls outside followed his example of using their hair to make parasols.

Sounds of stirring sand were getting closer. A sandstorm? They could try to push through or circle the bugs for protection and wait it out.

Branch tensed.

Copper's yelling dragged out from afar until he burst over top of a dune. He tore down the bank toward the caravan. "Do listen to Branch! Do listen to Branch!"

A whirlpool of teeth erupted behind Cooper.

Smidge was at Branch's side as if she'd been there all along.

He directed: "Blend in. Get moving when it's safe."

Branch propelled himself onto the royal flyer bug on top of the caravan and took to the sky. Smidge leapt onto the lead delivery beetle, barking the command to blend in and shrouding the convoy tip with sand-tinted hair.

He flew straight for the creature headed their way. Its head was pointed like a spade, its long, snakelike body mostly buried in the ground except for two front legs ending in blunt talons. Bone colored scales covered its hide. Size-wise it rivaled a crocodile. Multiple rows of curved teeth lined its gaping maw. Predator.

"Cooper!" Branch shouted, slinging his hair around the panicked troll. He throttled the flyer's antennae and strained to fling Cooper as far to the side as possible. His friend hit the sand and rolled into an instinctive tan ball.

The beast looked around for the crunchy, nutrient-packed beetles.

Branch unhooked his slingshot and circled around back to peg the predator where its skull joined its spine. The spade head swept around and snapped at the space he'd just been. It swiveled down low to the ground and crawled further out of the sand, using its head to feel for the camouflaged beetle train.

"Come on, you stupid beast," Branch growled under his breath, lining up another shot. The pebble bounced unnoticed off of thick scales.

His next shot hit the target. The beast crammed its stinging eye shut, thrashing once before leaping at Branch.

He took off. All he needed to do was lure the infuriated predator away. It swam through the sand like a shark through water, keeping up with him easily. He worried about what other abilities it might have. He tried to stay far enough away it wanted to chase, but not so far it lost interest.

Suddenly it lunged forward. Teeth closed over the tip of his hair and tore him from Poppy's bug. Wind whipped over his skin. No time.

With all his might he willed his hair to grow, clogging the predator's mouth in a frizzed hairball and snaking down its throat.

It choked and hacked, slamming him to the ground. He blacked out for a second on impact. Pinpricks shocked over his scalp as strands got caught in hooked teeth and broke off. A crack, like a tendon snapping over bone, pierced his brain. Slimy blue mats of hair spit up and sizzled in baked sand. The tin whine in his head wouldn't stop screeching. He felt hot. On his hands and knees. The monster thrashing. Something trying to push him up.

He clung to the flyer bug pushing at him. "Good girl. Thank you, thank you," he hoarsely croaked, stroking her smooth shell with a shaking hand. She flitted him a short distance from the battle.

Branch could still see the sand creature. It watched him. He watched it. He needed it to stay here, away from the others. He sat for a while in the shade of a bone until his breathing stabilized. The water in his pack was still secure. He took a sip and poured some for Lifesaver, his gaze never leaving the predator in the backdrop.

Damage: no breaks or tears. His neck was starting to hurt. His hair was sprained, lying in a knotted black trail far off into the desert. That was a priority. Cursory inspection of supplies told him he'd lost the slingshot. The bedroll was still strapped to his rucksack. The bag's contents were inside but likely squished.

The hair sprain was crippling. It was always a nasty surprise how physically painful it was the moment it snapped, too. Any other time hair didn't "feel," other than pushes or pulls against his head, but right now there was a distinct lack of any sensation at all. A nothingness he couldn't control. He felt naked. No, worse. He felt defenseless.

With an eye always on the predator, he got out a pair of scissors and the tiger-striped comb from Poppy. The scissors were to cut everything and run. If it came to that he'd lose it all, be disabled for weeks as it regrew.

By hand he manually reeled in his hair. Starting from the frazzled tail end he untangled what he could. The wooden comb shushed and crackled through snags. Laboring in the heat, he pulled shreds of broken hair from the comb, staying within the bone shadow minute hand as time slithered on.

Finally he was able to call back the stream of bruised hair into a short, jagged brush. It drooped without any spring or strength left. Even sun protection was out of the question.

Branch saddled up on Lifesaver and felt relief when the predator chose not to follow.

Lifesaver made short work of the desert and hit the next zone's wall of cold and snow like a party cannon. Branch used his hands to bundle up in his stressed hair and added the unfolded bedroll on top to minimize wind burn. The skies were thankfully snowflakeless and sunny.

On the border Branch spotted the caravan. They'd just passed into windy plains, where the bus route curved to go around a lake. He rejoined the group.

Spirits were low. They made it to the floating eyefields after sundown and still he pushed them onward. He wanted to reach the fresh water river after the eyes to restock supplies. Nobody looked at his broken hair. Nobody complained about the forced march, either.

In a way it didn't matter if it was dark out, because on the ground the starry-eyed pupils above blotted out the sky. Trolls clicked on their hair lights. He did not have the ability to do so right now, but he did have a new glow gnat lantern. The gnats inside were irritated by the day's rough handling and he had to keep feeding them to get a reliable shine.

Everyone, bugs included, collapsed when he called the stop. No one mentioned the song he'd promised. Camp filled with the silence of sleep. He did a hair count to be sure no one was missing.

He rested in his bedroll. He knew he needed sleep but he couldn't relax. Every snap and crack made him jerk around and stare into the dark, searching for reflective eyes. What happened if he came home with fewer trolls? What happened if he didn't come home at all? Had Poppy considered that possibility?

Probably not. Hopefully not. If he thought he might never see her again he'd sure be doing a lot more than kissing her hand.

Maybe he should file a complaint.

Dearest Queen Poppy,
Let it be known that henceforth should you require my death-defying services, the price shall be your finest steed and a proper kiss.
Your Ever Loyal, Faithful Knight
Branch

It was so stupid and he was so tired he considered writing it down and mailing it as a prank, maybe with a handful of glitter that'd explode all over the room when she opened it.

Something snapped out in the dark and he flipped over to survey the area. No eyes, no more sound.

"Hey."

Branch nearly kicked Smidge on instinct. She'd come up on his blind side.

"Knew you'd still be awake," she said. She circled around to put herself between him and the wilderness, a green glow stick bracelet lighting up one arm. She settled down with her back to him, legs crossed. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

"Aren't you tired?" He didn't trust anyone to stay awake right now.

"I took a nap," she said.

"When?"

"In one of the beetles after you came back."

Branch rolled over, sensing Smidge's solid presence behind him. At last he fell asleep.

In the morning they set off for the final day, getting close to Bergentown. His mom's words played in his head.

I've been there. I've been beyond the walls. It's beautiful and terrifying.

The convoy traveled around rolling green hills crested in merry sunset flowers, some of them death traps for critters who wandered to the summit. Bright blue berries adorned bushes, tasty looking and poisonous. Fuzzy lumped peaks of red, purple, and yellow bordered deep undertones of spider lairs. Pink mushrooms covered fallen logs amidst lush green foliage. He'd been here with Poppy. They'd camped not far from this place, two naive trolls who thought they knew each other.

Make a happy life for yourself there.

I will. I did. Sorry it took so long.

Beautiful and terrifying.

x x x

"Poppy, no, I can't do this," Biggie protested.

"Don't worry Biggie, you'll be fine. Smidge will be back in a few days," Poppy said.

"You gave Branch the fastest flyer in the village. What if he comes back early? How do you know he won't fly back tomorrow?"

"I don't." All she had was faith Branch wouldn't abandon the others unless it was an emergency.

"Oooooo. I'm going to be sick."

"Biggie. If Branch does show up early, Smidge can handle it."

"He's going to be so cross with you."

It wouldn't be the first time.