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UNSPOKEN
A Dreamworks Trolls Fanfic by C. Prince
I want to post an extra update to this story this week, but I'm ALMOST ready to drop the first chapter of a World Tour fic, and there's some new scenes I want to add to what happens next in Unspoken, so I need editing time. TLDR: as usual Monday is the next update, I'msosorry!
Evil Word
Branch let himself wake naturally. He checked his watch. 9:30 AM, and he had company.
"Oh, good. You're awake," Milton said. The critternarian was holding a half-finished plate of fruits and veggies. "Smidge asked me to bring your flyer bug up here. She's all ready to go." Milton turned to the kitchen. "Branch is up. Shall I go fetch this morning's visitor?"
"Yes please!" came Smidge's gruff voice.
Branch was then subjected to a huge stack of fried eggs, hash browns, toast, fruit, a tall glass of milk, and a second glass of water.
"Don't even think of hiding any of this in your hair," Smidge said. She narrowed her eyes. "I can smell it."
Over breakfast he reread last night's important letters. Poppy had not gone "camping" unprepared. She'd taken first aid training. Meadow Spriggs taught her about edible and poisonous plants. A couple of vendors mentioned supplies Poppy might have on her now – firecracker flowers, medicines, fruit and nut bars, and an insulated sleeping bag.
Branch had gone through her camping gear and she'd taken most of it, except not the tent. She wasn't planning on staying in any one place.
Milton returned with another troll.
"Good morning Branch."
Branch narrowed his eyes. "Creek."
"What, not even so much as a hello? And in front of guests no less."
"Hello, Creek," Branch said through his teeth.
"Was that so bad? Now, about Poppy, I have some information I'd be happy to share."
"Great."
"If," Creek said.
Branch resisted the urge to pull the infuriating troll's hair. Creek always stood uncomfortably close. It would be easy.
"You recite this poem over megaphone for all to hear." Creek handed him a paper. The latest attempt to publicly shame Branch featured an apology, in rhyme, for things Branch was not sorry for. He folded the note and put it in his hair.
"No," he said.
"I made it back to the village," Creek said. "I'm sure Poppy will too."
No. He was not wasting time being humiliated.
"I'm sure she will," Branch said. "How long were you in the woods? Two, three months? We'll just wait for her to come back. And you know who's going to take charge while we wait?" Branch jabbed a thumb at himself. "Me."
Creek's smug expression fell off a cliff and died in a fire.
"That's right. No more rock gardens, no more yoga obstructing the roadways, rules and regulations everywhere, oh, but that will come later. First I have a much more important decree to make. Something that will make everyone safer, put structure back into the village."
The room was silent.
"A curfew."
"NO!" The trolls shouted at the evil word.
Smidge was on her knees. "Please Branch, Biggie and I can handle a few more months."
Milton backed up against the wall, whimpering like he'd been kicked.
Branch paid neither of them any heed. His laser focus burned into a horrified Creek. "It's up to you, Creek-A-Boo," he said with a vicious smile.
"You wouldn't…"
Branch wasn't smiling anymore. "Try me."
Creek swallowed, hard. Then he started talking about Poppy spending time with him to learn oddly specific details on survival. What Creek had to say was upsetting, not because Poppy and Creek got along, but because she'd gone to pretty boy for advice about the one thing, he, Branch, knew better than anyone.
In fact, she'd trusted everyone in the village except for him.
That hurt. A lot.
Poppy liked to push him, but in the end she always gave him space when he needed it. Did she think he wouldn't do the same for her?
Maybe she didn't want to see him at all. Actually, it was pretty clear she didn't.
Branch looked at the marked maps scattered before him, the stack of note cards, the furniture he'd moved. The blankets were still rumpled from where he'd slept last night. There was a flyer bug tied outside. He was talking to a troll he didn't like inside the pod of a queen who didn't want to be found. This was crazy. He was being crazy. What was he doing?
"Thank you Creek. I've heard enough," Branch said.
The interruption surprised Creek. "Really? Will that help you find Poppy?"
Cupcakes, the guy actually sounded hopeful.
"I guess." Branch folded the maps back up into a tidy stack.
"You guess or you know?" Creek pressed.
"I guess," he repeated, pocketing the maps, "Poppy wants to be alone."
For a little while it was quiet. Branch smoothed out the bed covers.
"What are you saying?" Milton asked.
Branch cleared off the front table to put it back where it belonged. "I'm saying we're done here. We'll wait for Poppy to come home."
"Milton, hold my hand," Smidge growled. "Because if you don't, I'm going to slap some sense into him."
Milton took both of Smidge's hands.
Now it was Creek's turn to be indignant. "Branch, mate, you can't be serious. You're not really going to leave her out there are you?"
"You said it yourself: if you made it back, so can she," he replied.
"If I really believed that, why would I come up here at all? To tease you? Don't flatter yourself."
Branch set the side table back down and pressed his hands on it, leaning forward. "Then please, enlighten me, oh wise and powerful zen master, why are you here?"
"Because you're the only one who can find Poppy."
Branch abandoned the table and picked his pack up off the floor.
"Oh go ahead, run away!"
He headed for the door.
Creek's voice was low now. Displeased. "You're not the troll I thought you were."
Branch flared his hands out and glared at Creek. "Like what? A paranoid hermit? A rules-mongering fear lord? A fun-sucking vampiric growlbeast?" He turned his back and untied Lifesaver.
"A brave one."
His hands fumbled the knot for a second. Then he regained focus and finished the job, hoisting himself up on the flyer bug.
"Branch, where are you going?" Smidge demanded.
"To find the queen."
He sought for signs of Poppy, but his heart wasn't in it. Something didn't feel right. Like their bond wasn't as strong as he thought it was, if she snuck off without a word. Yes, she'd promised to come back, but he wouldn't feel so terrible if he knew where she was. He didn't need to be there. He just needed to know she was okay.
"What am I supposed to do, Gary?" Branch lamented quietly to the open air. "What am I supposed to do?"
The search turned up nothing. Branch came back to the queen's pod late. There was a feed and water station for Lifesaver now. He absentmindedly polished dust and dirt off her carapace.
The sense of urgency that gripped him before was gone, replaced by more of a nagging unease. He changed into the second set of clothes he had with him, hand-washed the rest, took a shower, ate something. There were a few more messages from trolls who'd secondhand heard the call for clues. None of them were especially noteworthy.
Branch took a lantern and walked dark tree pathways. Some pods still beamed with a warm glow. He passed them until there were no more houses, only bark and leaves. Further beyond that a bough stretched above the canopy and he could see the forest. Tonight the sliver of moon dimly lit the woods.
He wanted to talk to her, fix the tear in his heart. The lonely sound of his flute carried over the treetops, calling out for an answer.
Hey there, hey there
Can you hear me out there?
Cooper's harmonica echoed back. Then a harp: Guy.
But Branch was seeking a response he wouldn't get. He played the first line again, and again, and once more to the sound of silence.
The next morning he puttered around, laying out his gear and resetting it. He wondered if he should make a new slingshot, get one from the market, or go home to pick one up. He could continue these searches from the bunker. There wasn't any special reason to stay here.
Still, it wasn't an effective use of time to go there for one thing and leave again, and a sling from the market would be a toy, so he found himself at the strategy table whittling down a Y-shaped stick.
"Um, hi. Sorry to bother you."
He didn't recognize who it was. The yellow glitter troll had orange bangs that partially obscured her eyes. When he looked at her she shied away, crossing one arm over her chest, closing herself off. A shy glitter troll?
"Let me guess," he said. "Invitation for Poppy. Goes in the basket by the door." He flicked his knife at the overflowing bin.
"Oh, that's… no. I—" she stammered. "The skitterboard competition is today."
"So?" What did this woman want from him? Was he supposed to go to that? He didn't feel like it. Everyone was getting on his nerves.
The glitter troll balled her fists and stared at her feet. "Queen Poppy said if she wasn't back for the skitterboard competition to find Branch." She hazarded a glance up at him. "That's you, right?"
The troll bit her lip. "I think she's in trouble."