.
Fluffy Love
After World Tour: during an unfortunately timed festival a self-conscious Branch seeks out the troll dearest to his heart.
Nudity was no big deal.
It was not a big deal.
Really.
Branch told himself again, the tufted end of his tail twitching.
This was fine.
He sighed, stepping around another discarded garment on the lawn. It started with pants and ended with everything. Right as he was thinking this one of the villagers yanked off their tanktop with an exuberant cheer, sending nearby trolls into a tearaway tizzy. Clothing took to the sky. Within moments Pop Village transformed into a land of fuzzy glitter trolls – minus the glitter.
Spotted chests, striped torsos, and dappled tummies blared on full display. Harper's calico fur danced through the ruckus. Naked trolls giggled and pranced. Felted fabric trailed in their wake as more and more got into the holiday spirit.
Across the field Riff froze with a box of tangled cables in hand. His frazzled hair tilted in confusion. Branch shrugged. There was no rational explanation. There never was.
With a goofy grin Riff balanced the box on a knee, lifted his beanie off, and stuffed it in with the cables.
No hat. Scandalous.
The only two trolls still wearing something continued walking in opposite directions, Riff going one way and Branch the other. He wondered what Barb's reaction would be when she arrived for tonight's concert. Puffed up cheeks until bursts of laughter escaped? Shocked stillness before tossing a "yeah whatever" shrug? Throwing a pair of horns and shredding her own clothes with a rebel yell?
He kneaded the deepening crease between his eyebrows. More crazed lunatics in his life. That's what he needed. He must've wished for it at some point. Must've. Make a wish and break a string – yeah, something like that.
Give it a few years and this festival would be bustling with the speckled and painted skins of their country brethren and the thin, wickedly twisting tiger patterns common to rock trolls. Everyone else went naked all the time, but that was the luxury of thicker fur, harder skin, or, well, living underwater.
The village market hummed with activity. In front of the outdoor cafe Branch weaved between mushroom tables, looking for a specific color. A bright yellow troll a few tables over groaned. She held a sandwich in one hand while staring down at a large glob of jam slopped over her chest, the gooey redberry filling sinking into thick fur. Her friend grabbed a napkin and tipped a glass of water over it. She scrubbed frantically at the silky tuft. Jam smeared everywhere, prompting giggles from the naked trolls at other tables.
"You think that's funny Violet?" the jam-covered troll said, grinning. She peeled the sandwich apart and shoved a finger into the filling, flicking it at Violet. Red goo smacked into Violet's chest fluff.
"Nooo! Isabelle! You know how hard it is to keep clean without clothes!"
"Then maybe you shouldn't laugh," Isabelle said, aiming a clump of peanut butter at a chuckling male troll. She pegged the guy in the nose.
"FOOD FIGHT!"
Branch dodged a tail slathered in ketchup and made a mad dash around tables to escape the cafe. Maybe he didn't have to worry about washing a feminine ruff, but he didn't feel like cleaning vest leaves or brushing graham cracker crumbs out of his fuzz either.
He stalked the vendor alley, still searching for a familiar pink firework. The chances of finding her with any clothing on at this point were not good. It'd be fine. All he needed to do was ask what time he was supposed to be at her pod for supper.
Of course he had to forget a detail like that today.
It was either five or six. He could show up an hour early, but what if… was it four? Oh no. He needed to be punctual, not interrupt her plans an hour too soon, or worse, make her wait an hour late. But if he was supposed to be there at four, and he arrived at five… or if he showed up at four, and supper was at six... This was driving him mad.
He swished his tail impatiently. She wasn't in Harper's gallery, or at the glitter stall, or picking through the costume racks. He couldn't hear her singing. Nobody seemed to know where she was.
Branch stopped dead in the middle of the thoroughfare.
Poppy had asked him to come over tonight, right?
Did she expect him to show up naked?
He was certain he had the day wrong, now, too. Not just the time. Maybe he should go home and try again tomorrow. But this was Poppy, and she would see nothing odd about going on a date during a festival where clothes were even more optional than usual.
Technically there was nothing odd about it. Two trolls eating dinner together in their natural furs. Harmless.
The passing swoosh of Cooper wearing pants brought Branch back to the fact he was still standing in the street. Nude trolls moved around him like a stream parting for a boulder. He stepped to the side. Across the way Biggie ambled alongside a group of his friends. Branch hoisted himself onto the nearest leaf, wrapped his tail around the stem, and called out before the giant troll got out of range.
"Biggie! Have you seen Poppy?"
"Ah, yes, actually," he hollered back. "She went that way not long ago. Looking for that fuzzbug, the one that delivers to Vibe City. You know. The green one."
"They're all green!"
Biggie gave a thumbs up, cradling Mr. Dinkles in his free arm, before heading off with the other trolls.
Better than no leads at all, Branch supposed. He hadn't a clue where any particular fuzzbug would be. He knew the forest, though, so he bounced off the leaf and jogged the trail to Misty Meadows, hoping he'd catch Poppy before she got distracted.
He didn't. The thinner mist at this hour made it easy to see she wasn't flouncing around any of the mushroom homes. He groaned, rubbing his face in his hand. What was he supposed to do, trudge through the back forest and hope he stumbled on her?
"Poppy!" he called.
Nothing.
"Branch?" A quiet voice asked from beneath a large, purple spotted fungus. Tiny flowers and leaves weaved neatly into the troll's hair. "She took the gem flower garden trail."
"Thank you!" He said, exasperated. Not at Meadow Spriggs – he was pretty sure that was her name – just at the situation. This normally didn't take so long. By his estimation that meant Poppy had gone off the paths and into the woods. What was she thinking? Didn't she want to party with everyone else?
He skirted the meadow's edge until he came to a gap in the undergrowth where the gem flower garden route began. Dirt on the less traveled path created texture underfoot and vegetation crowded the narrow trail, brushing over his clothes. The sounds of the village faded as the forest thickened. Chirruping insects and trilling froglets peppered the friendly atmosphere. He picked fallen sticks out of the walkway for the next troll who came through.
Branch reached the garden. Individual shining flowers of various hues speckled this less crowded part of the woods. Stems sprouted from the ground as well as higher up on a massive old stump clumped with moss. More flowers peeked from a ramble of lichen covered boulders. Though no one was in sight, a faint tune floated between iridescent petals. Only one troll sang like that.
He left the trail and followed the sound, climbing over stones and stepping through fern patches. There were no lyrics but still her voice called. It swelled with passionate cheer and warbled invented sounds, occasionally fading to a hum. The tune led him across a stream. He hopped from rock to rock, damp stone slipping at his feet. Against burbling water he caught one last hint of the song before it ended. She was close.
Branch pushed his way past broadleaves into a grassy clearing, announcing himself with all the rustling. He brushed his hands off on his vest while he crossed the green, checking his palms to be sure his fuzz was debris free. He took a breath to speak, lifted his gaze, and—
Stopped.
On the far edge of the clearing Poppy stood with her back to him, totally oblivious to his presence. She wore nothing. No dress, no shorts, no ponytail, not even her crown. The ray of sunlight breaking through the tree canopy highlighted her pink form in a warm glow. She was enjoying that beam, head tipped up, arms reaching to the sky as she stretched. The slim curve of her tail swayed lazily over her backside.
He was a goner the moment he stepped into that clearing.
Poppy finished her stretch and sighed with satisfaction. His skin started to prickle. It was time to leave. Time to go. But…
A poofy green ball flitted down from the sky. Poppy turned to the side and the fuzzbug landed in her cupped hands. She nuzzled the small critter, her face scrunched up adorably, bright pink color contrasting sharply with forest shades. He felt like he was intruding on a fairy tale. He'd stumbled upon the forest goddess while she frolicked and played and spread joy.
He needed to escape but he was entranced. Long furs over Poppy's chest trapped pure white light, glistening in a fuzzy halo against strawberry fluff. She freed the fuzzbug to the sky. An envelope dangled between its feet.
"Oh, Branch!" Poppy called in greeting. Tickles crinkled along his fuzz while it continued to perk. Would she notice? Enthralled by the way she moved, the usual worry slipped away before it began. All he could see was Poppy. Without the dress the slight curve of her hips was much more obvious.
She strolled up with complete and total naked confidence. That was… extremely attractive. Branch clenched his jaw. He stared. Was this beauty actually talking to him? Was this real? A burning desire to hug his dance partner churned in his stomach. He tried to slip his hands into his pockets over and over, seemingly unable to catch the pocket edge.
Oh. He didn't have pockets. He wore the scrappy patched shorts today, the ones with no storage at all.
His thumbs hooked awkwardly into his waistband and the fabric sank low in front, exposing extra skin to the open air. Uncomfortable. Did it look like he was going to rip his pants off? It probably did. Frosting.
The whole time his hands floundered Branch couldn't take his eyes off Poppy. The fluffy pink ruff marking her bosom was, um. There. It was there. Soft feminine flocking piled up like fresh peaked whipped cream. Absolutely nothing like the smooth, flat coat on him.
He wanted to touch it.
His fingers drummed at his waistband, threatening to break free. He crossed his arms and rammed his hands under there to prevent temptation.
"...sorry," Poppy was saying. The apology caught his attention and he looked up in time to see her wilting ears and downcast expression. She studied a patch of grass off to the side, carefully explaining she hadn't meant to upset him, and she honestly thought this area was safe.
It was safe. Why would she think it wasn't?
"Okay," she said. "You're mad at me. I, um. Maybe tomorrow for dinner would be better?"
Mad.
He'd been staring in silence, standing ramrod straight, arms folded, with an internal battle creasing his face. All of his fuzz prickled outward. It occurred to him Poppy only ever saw him puff when angry. He never stuck around when he fluffed for other reasons.
"I'm not angry, I just. Ah," he said, voice tight, thinking about snuggly she looked. His strained tone made her wilt even more. Words were not helping him right now.
Branch stopped struggling and relaxed, causing a tickle to race over his skin as his flocking reached full puff. His arms unfolded but that put his hands hovering, free to reach for that tantalizing part of Poppy. Or any part.
There was only one safe thing left to do.
A troll's hair was their best defense. To hold onto it rendered it useless and made the individual completely vulnerable.
Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it was alright to let her see his true feelings. He swallowed. He wasn't mad. All of the times he'd run away he'd never been mad. She deserved to know that. A slow exhale emptied his lungs while he gathered resolve.
In an act of complete surrender Branch curled his navy stream of hair down, in a crescent path, and slipped the ends through his palms. Dark strands bunched when he clamped down, cutting off his own defenses. He couldn't protect himself and the tame posture made it obvious his flared fur was due to attraction.
Never before had he felt so exposed. Nerves got the better of him. He wrung at his hair. Stubby blades of grass pricked between wiggly toes. Low heat flushed his cheeks and he could feel his ears sinking, as if he could make himself smaller. His tail curled around one leg while he gazed shyly at the troll before him.
Poppy's eyes went wide. When she found words they were somewhat breathless. "Branch, you don't have… to… do that…"
Her outstretched hand stopped between the two of them. He was at her mercy. His hands were full, his hair was trapped, and if she chose to attack or touch him it would happen. The seconds to release his hold were all she needed to take advantage.
But he was not afraid. He trusted her. He did not fear what those reaching fingers might do.
The situation sank in and Poppy withdrew her hand before it made contact. Timid curiosity slowed her actions. The tufted end of her tail swished back and forth in the grass while she took him in, the fully fluffed teal fuzz and demure posture waiting for her judgement. Magenta eyes fixated on the opening in his vest.
And then, just like that, Poppy's fur began to prick too. Short flocking rose to add extra thickness to her form. The sight rushed a quivery thrill along Branch's body. All of his senses were coming alive. He could feel the slightest breeze, hear the rustling leaves, taste the refreshing scent of shaded wood. He didn't move. He stood rooted to the spot by instinct, knowing any shift would ruin the magic. An expectant tingle hummed under pin-needle fuzz.
Poppy came close enough for her body to still the air between them. Lush strawberry fur puffed over her chest, the ends ever so finely brushed in pale pink. Gentle white spots dotted the ruff with glittery bits that matched the spray of freckles over her face. He was dying, dying to feel her.
Again her hand reached. Aquamarine fur strained for that touch, every inch of him electric for her acceptance. A little further. Her colors hovered above his.
Poppy's fingers sank into his chest.
"You're… you're really soft," she whispered like a dream.
Branch came undone, melting under her caress and the eroticism of her hand pushing through raised furs. Pure joy flooded him while she carefully smoothed his chest, the fibers springing back up after each stroke. He had no control over his tail. It wagged wildly in the grass.
Poppy seemed to find this funny, laughing gently. She looked at him in earnest, light reflecting off her bright eyes, a cute smile playing over her face. He loved her. He clenched his hair, not sure how much longer he could hold on. "Poppy, I… hrm."
"It's okay. You can let go," she said, touching a finger to the back of one of his hands. He hesitated. Poppy's confidence didn't waver.
He loosened his hold and his hair slipped free, flowing up to its original style. His hands were big dumb obstacles. He didn't know what to do with them. He looked at his hands to Poppy and back.
She snorted a laugh, a couple of her rounded teeth showing. "My gosh, Branch, it's just chest fur. Here." Her fingers wrapped around his.
She plunged his hand into her fur. The softest thing he'd ever touched engulfed him. Yes, he blushed. Obviously.
Poppy's grip turned rigid the second he made contact. A surprised peep came out of her and her tail shot straight out, the tip flaring. He chuckled. He couldn't help it. "Just chest fur, huh?" he said dryly, wiggling his fingers in her ruff. A flurry of flustered giggles toppled out of Poppy's mouth. She released his hand and scrabbled at his vest for something to hold while she laughed. Glitter freckles highlighted flushed cheeks.
He was the luckiest troll in the entire kingdom.
The luckiest troll wished he had prepared better for this, because his overly sensitive fuzz started to feel raw where it chafed under his outfit. The supple fabric grated compared to the feel of Poppy under his palm.
It almost didn't seem real to see his extended hand mixing with her silken ruff. Mesmerized, he swirled a finger in it. The furs were long enough to curl around him. He pressed deep and gently stroked, reveling in the light fluffiness. A dreamy smile spread over Poppy's face while he explored. Her fingertips trailed down his vest to rest at his waist. She fell quiet and watched him with a shy trust that made his heart squeeze.
Over the sound of critter song and a trickling woodland stream, grass rustled from the slow swish of their tails held low to the ground. Perfect warm sun filtered into their private clearing. It felt amazing on fluffed fur but too hot and stuffy under his restrictive clothes.
"Isn't that uncomfortable?" she asked, lifting one flap of his vest. The teal hairs underneath stood on end, finally free to breathe fresh air. Soothing relief came to a jarring halt when she let go and the flap clapped down. Smashed needle fuzz burned.
"It's not great," he said, wincing. Poppy winced in return when she realized he was sensitive enough to feel what she'd just done. Unlike him she didn't have protective layers restraining her raised flocking.
"Are you… afraid to take it off?" she guessed.
He was. He didn't want to admit it, so he looked down and guided his hands through her fur to the curve in her hips. She was gorgeous: an absolutely unblemished rosy shade everywhere save the frosted tips of her chest. Every troll had at least some spots, or stripes, or markings. It'd always struck him how solid Poppy was. Unwavering pink-on-pink from her nose to her eyes.
"You're beautiful," he said, watching her petite toes wiggle in front of his big ones. "Your skin is the color of sunset candy clouds, but softer than they could ever be. When you laugh—"
"—I know what you're doing," she teased. The interruption surprised him enough to meet her gaze. "And it's alright. I just kinda hoped you'd open up a little more since it's a holiday. You're always so fast to change clothes; any time there's a costume or a new outfit you're in an out of it before anyone can blink!" Her goofy grin turned into a small, vulnerable smile that nailed his heart. "I hardly ever get to see you," she said, softer. "All of you." She brushed a hand lovingly over his cheek. Oh, cupcakes, that felt good against his shorter flocking. He closed his eyes and leaned into it.
Poppy cupped his face in both hands and massaged circles over his cheeks. With his heightened senses it was utter tingly bliss. Each touch edged him towards dropping his defenses, holding her, kissing her, doing anything he could to get her to make the happy noises coming from him now. He kept his eyes closed and savored the brush over his ears, down and around his jaw, along his neck. He must've clued her in on how good it felt on the back of his head, because she came close enough to give a good rub behind his ears. Deep caresses pushed through his hairline into his skin in the best possible way. Tingles shivered up and down his spine.
He longed to be fur-to-fur with his sweetheart. In a perfect world he'd rip off his clothes, pounce and tumble with her in the grass, play whatever game she wanted to play, and rub as much of himself against her as possible.
It was a fantasy. Self-consciousness always kept him at bay.
Poppy's massage stopped and she stepped back. Her small smile said she was content with this, even though she wished for more. He wished he could give it. Branch rubbed his arm. "I don't… look like all the other trolls," he said, quickly covering up the fear she wouldn't be physically attracted to him with lesser concerns. "I need to blend in, I don't like being scratched walking through the woods, and see? Pockets." He opened his vest to show buttoned compartments, instantly regretting how nice the cool air felt before he folded the fabric back down.
"Branch, it's fine," she laughed. For some reason her acceptance made him frustrated with himself. "Do you want to head back? Or we can hang out here for a bit. The sun feels great, even if the ground is kinda hard." She rapped a foot on the grass.
"I want to change," he muttered since his thoughts were still on clothes. Poppy didn't give him a chance to say more.
"Go ahead! If it helps I promise I won't look."
She spun around, which most certainly did not help because it gave him a great view of her butt. He scoffed and turned away. It was depressing this was so easy for her – for everyone – and not for him. Ashamed, he thumbed a leaf on his vest. If they were going to be together he couldn't hide forever.
It wasn't the whole village. It was Poppy, the troll who knew and loved him. She adapted quickly. The sooner he presented his flaws the sooner she could get used to them.
With a resigned sigh Branch pushed his shorts down. The leg cuffs and waistband choked off raised fuzz that sprang back up behind the fabric's path. Once the shorts were off he pulled his tail he folded the garment and tucked it in his hair. Nervous, he glanced over his shoulder. Poppy was still turned away with her hands clasped behind her back. She rocked up on her toes, innocently watching a passing butterfly.
If he went further his bad side would be the first thing she saw. He turned to face her back. She didn't look. With great reluctance he slid the vest off one shoulder, then the other. Scalloped leaves folded neatly into a square. The vest joined the shorts in storage.
There. He was naked. Poppy didn't peek because she assumed he had a more comfortable outfit to change into. His cautious side itched to use the opportunity to put his vest back on.
Branch looked down and cleared his throat. This way he didn't have to watch her expression but he could still sense her presence, could visualize her excited surprise upon seeing him exposed. After a moment she circled behind. Her footfalls stopped there. He balled his fists and scrunched his eyes shut, knowing what she saw.
Three wide navy stripes stacked vertically up his back. They were unnaturally thick and unappealing, as if some fat-pawed beast had sideswiped him. But worse – and he knew there'd be no hiding it now, not when he was fluffed – an ugly scar withered from shoulder to hip in a wide scraggly diagonal that cut through his stripes. No fuzz grew there. Many years later the skin remained darker and warped inside whitish edges. Raised pucker marks where the doctor stitched him up perforated the pale outline.
To this day he was terrified of birds. With numb clarity he could recall the gouge ripping chunk by chunk while he desperately tried to free himself several feet above the treetop. It was an expensive lesson in the importance of camouflage for a solitary troll.
No pop troll had an injury like his so he'd been shocked to see gnarly scars among the other genres. His stripes, though… fat stripes weren't normal anywhere. The shiny darted triangles on some reggaeton trolls were possibly the closest thing. So, he was an aberration. His weird markings along with the disfigurement drew eyes and pestering questions.
Poppy said nothing. She already knew the story. She'd seen the scar; he just never let her look at it. Or him.
How long did she plan to stare? The urge to keep his back out of sight kicked in. "It looks bad, that's… why… I…"
Hands gently settled over his shoulders from behind. Poppy brushed down his back through puffed fur to the top stripe. Then she pushed against the grain back up. He shivered and bit his lip, suppressing a pleased huff. Holly and sprinkles that felt good. If she did that the whole length of his back…
She brushed down further and stopped, resting above his scar. "Does it hurt?"
"No. I don't feel as much there."
Her hands trailed a smooth path all the way down. She didn't so much as flinch when she passed over the scar's uneven surface. Fingers fanned over his hips and gracefully swooped back up his sides, curving around his shoulders to reach all the way to his nape. She touched him like she really, truly, didn't mind. For a second his insecurities faltered.
"Uhm. Could you… do that again?"
"Sure."
She kept petting him, adding new motions along the way. Branch got lost in the sensation. She grasped his shoulders and kneaded thumbs into his muscles. Strokes brushed out one stripe at a time. Fingers massaged the dip in his lower back right above his tail. No touch had ever felt like this; he had to breathe through his mouth to get enough air. His heart swelled with the need to bring her close.
At last he couldn't take it any more. Branch turned around.
"I love you," she said, eyes lidded with the look that beckoned him in. She wanted a kiss. He happily gave it, surrendering to the loving warmth it produced.
"I love you too," he finished. Except he wasn't done. Neither was she, since arms encircled him and brought him close. Her lips touched his at the same time as luxurious chest fluff pressed to his bare body.
Nothing prepared him for the feeling of her raised fur mingling with his. Waves of pleasure radiated from the full contact. The sensual shock made him break the kiss with a small, heated puff. Poppy hummed an almost-moan that spiked the overwhelming passion rising in him. She nuzzled her nose beneath his and waited for the tiny movement that would bring their lips together again.
Branch closed his eyes and tried to collect himself. They were both fools if they thought a fur-to-fur hug would feel the same as it did with friends. His tail sought out hers for emotional support and she accepted, hooking tips in a simple gesture of companionship. The touch helped ground spiraling emotions. Gradually they caught their breath.
"This feels amazing," Poppy sighed into him.
"You feel amazing," he countered, earning a smile he felt in the way her nose shifted against his. Poppy's happiness tipped him over the edge. Even though he was drowning in feelings he found himself capturing that smile against his. Tails intertwined and the small poofs on the ends flicked and tickled each other.
They held each other, one kiss after the other, in the sunny forest clearing.
While they kissed Poppy's fingers brushed through his fur, unabashed by the scar. Joy curled around him. The burden of doubt he'd carried on his shoulders melted away. All of the other trolls in the kingdoms, and Poppy chose him. Poppy accepted him. He stood on top of the world. He'd won the greatest prize anyone could hope for: love.
The urge to run for no reason nipped at his heels, giddy and excited and playful. It was a healthy lightheartedness he'd learned to recognize, one that replaced days of begrudged lonely gray at the edge of society. Branch grinned like a starstruck dope into Poppy's kisses, eagerly returning all of them.
Maybe she'd play. His tail quivered.
Poppy unraveled from their embrace and slid her hands along his arms. Her cheeks practically glowed. "I wouldn't mind… going somewhere else," she hinted.
Cuddle. She wanted to cuddle. Happy energy coursed through him. "I might know a place."
"Which one?"
"You'll have to catch me!" He leapt away.
"What? Branch. Branch!" she shouted, running after him, laughing.
He bounded deeper into the forest. Grass gave way to a carpet of spongy moss covering ground, rocks, fallen logs. He sprang along its cushy surface and listened to Poppy's mirth while she chased after him for a change. She was going to come to him this time. Branch's grin deepened while he pounded through a patch of ferns. Curling fronds slapped his body and slanted sunbeams flickered through canopy gaps.
Up ahead, tall mahogany trunks twisted in wild latticeworks. Light spilled over one of the trees. Only because he knew it so well he easily spotted the trunk section higher up that stuck out like a small balcony with a rounded underside.
Branch lashed his hair around the first tree limb. Bough by bough he leapt and swung, finishing with a smooth bounce off a broadleaf to land with a thump on the natural wood here bulbed out to form a bowl. Plush emerald moss filled it not quite to the top, leaving a smooth wooden rim around the scoop. At this afternoon hour sunlight streamed through a break in the trees and warmed the moss inside. It was perfect.
Branch crouched low inside the bowl. He flattened his hair and peered over the rim down to the forest floor. Below, Poppy hopped onto a spotted mushroom and froze, realizing she'd lost his trail. She trampolined to the ground and looked around, her unbound plume of hot pink hair swaying. She circled his tree. Watching her hunt for him made his fur rise in anticipation.
Then she looked up. Their eyes met.
Branch ducked behind the bowl's edge. An excited, anxious shock at being seen pierced him. Would she come for him? Keeping his hair flat he peeked over the lip. Poppy stood stark still up on the second tree fork, gaze pinned to his.
He hid. She didn't make a sound. When he popped his head up she was suddenly two more forks higher, totally unmoving, a devious smile stretched over her face.
He ducked down again and his heart raced. Any second now. If he looked she was going to be right there. Well, he'd show her. He'd nab her and pull her into the basket. Ha. Surprise, Poppy.
Tense and quivering, Branch popped up to see—
She wasn't there.
Empty boughs and leaves greeted him, no different than any other day on the secret platform. Normal wildlife sounds filled the air. She wasn't climbing the bark or bouncing off a leaf. Curious, he slowly edged further up so the area below the scoop crept into view. Distant forest floor appeared.
A force struck from behind and pulled him backward. His stomach slammed into his throat. "EEEEP!"
Poppy immediately released him and fell into a laughing fit. "You just – that sound – you made that sound! Hahah!" She rolled, curling into a ball, tail thrashing.
"That's not funny Poppy," he grumbled, embarrassed.
"No, it's hilarious!" She mimicked his squeaking sound. Eeep. Eeek.
Here he was, trying to court her properly, and she had to bungle it with a surprise. He huffed and ran a hand through his hair. So much for that.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she gasped between chuckles. "It's just… you're cute."
"I'm cute. I'm cute? Then what's this?" He flicked his tail over her exposed belly. She squirmed into another giggle fit. Light sparkled over her freckles and chest like stars.
So Branch, I heard you and Poppy went missing this afternoon.
Oh yes, it was very romantic. I tickled her until she fell asleep.
He sat with his back to the rim and let his tail do the work, skittering out of reach whenever she grabbed for it. The next time some power crazed person came after Poppy, they really should just go for the kill with a tickle attack. She could barely move at this point.
Clap! He tried to yank his tail away but the puffed tip stuck between Poppy's hands. Her grip shifted to a fist at the tuft's base while she lay in a pink heap, panting. Didn't seem like he'd be getting his tail back any time soon.
Branch lounged against the bark lip and sent his hair along the edge to a hole in the timber. He pulled a wooden cup from the compartment.
Poppy rolled to her stomach and kicked her feet up. She folded her arms under her chin and trapped his tail underneath. Her fur fluffed in the sunlight. A refreshing breeze rippled through it. "It's nice up here. Is this your spot?"
"My spot…" He suspended the cup midair and split a tendril of hair away to pull down a leaf. The green foliage funneled into a cone shape. Fresh water trickled from the end. "I guess you could say that." He tipped the rain catch back up and stretched the filled cup over to Poppy. She pushed up on her elbows to take it.
There were few places he felt safe and secluded enough to sun himself with nothing on. Now he was here, in the moss nest, with the wild and carefree pink troll he'd loved for so long. A troll who'd kindly taken to fondling his tail, plucking forest scraps from it, braiding and unbraiding small sections. The light pulling was relaxing. He closed his eyes and focused on the gentle rippling sensation instead of the enticing sight of her, fluffy and naked and comfortable, in his domain.
As long as she was here she'd be safe. He'd keep watch while she rested. Guarding wasn't necessary – all the times he'd dozed off up here it'd always been secure – but protecting her made him feel strong. He had a purpose.
Branch turned his head to distract himself with scenery while Poppy manicured his tail. A circle of blue sky opened between swaying leaves. Mahogany wood of the neighboring tree peeped between gaps in lush foliage. On the forest floor insects searched for food and friendship, their iridescent shell patterns flitting beneath mushroom caps. The grove provided sanctuary for small critters of all kinds.
Branch was listening to the warbling thrum of a wedge cricket when he felt a tug at the base of his spine. Poppy released his tail. Was that his tail? A clean styled curly-cue puffed at the end. Not a single frazzled hair marred the silken navy strands.
Poppy lay on her side and captured him inside her gaze. She wouldn't let go, holding him there with shimmering eyes.
"What?" he asked softly.
"Will you stay with me?"
"Of course I will." The vulnerability behind her question scared him, and he looked away. "I'll be here when you wake up."
He'd left her behind before. By the time he'd been reminded what could happen, she'd already been...
But she'd also let him walk away. He'd really needed her to call out and she hadn't. So he found the same question falling from his lips in a hushed voice. "Will you stay with me?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
They looked at each other, both knowing the meaning went deeper than words.
Poppy shifted to a more comfortable position on her side. He did his best to ignore the way she watched him, how it stirred up butterflies and a compulsion to touch her. After a few slow, sleepy blinks her eyes closed. Alone in the moss, she curled into herself and tucked her tail in close. The lonely body language struck him hard.
Branch slid away from the scoop edge, gauging her reaction. When there wasn't any he moved again. This time Poppy's eyelids drifted open. She tilted her chin up enough to look at him with a soft hope he couldn't resist. He passed through dappled shade into bright sun at the center of the bowl and sat beside her. She relaxed, the loneliness melting out of her repose. It was then he realized he might've misinterpreted what she meant when she asked him to stay. She wanted him near.
Branch ever so carefully eased himself down to the moss, alert for any negative response from his partner. He stretched out on his back next to her. Sunlight started to sink through his belly fur down to his very core, warm and relaxing.
"Do you think the others are looking for us?" Poppy asked.
"I hope not," he sighed. "Sharing is caring and all, but, ah, this is a private spot."
"You're territorial."
"Mmm."
A sly undercurrent slipped into Poppy's voice. "Do you get jealous when I hug Hickory?"
"Kinda."
"Branch!"
He grinned, knowing the confession would rile her.
"Do you get jealous when I hug anyone?" she asked.
Branch rolled on his side to face her. "Do I seem jealous all the time?"
"No." Smiling, Poppy wiggled closer. Any further and they'd be touching.
Abruptly the fun banter turned into something else. It was a different and intimate view, lying beside each other like that. Moss cushioned Poppy's cheek the way a pillow would.
A hesitant pink hand drifted to his side. It tickled the tips of his fur before becoming bold and stroking gently. He returned the favor, making small touches over her exposed pelt. Neither of them had the courage to make the next move.
Was he allowed? Only bonded pairs cuddled this way. Branch sought for an answer in those clear magenta irises. All he saw was the welcome that'd always been there for him.
He nuzzled his head under hers and snuggled into her. Tails twined. Dream soft fur touched his face. Whatever she'd washed with had long worn off, leaving only her faint natural essence. She smelled clean, and warm. Quiet happy chirrups ensued while they wiggled to get as close and cozy as possible.
Branch curled up with Poppy, feeling the sun shine warmth over his skin and the breeze ruffle his fluffy fur.
x x x
He gradually woke to pink wisps stirring against him. They'd napped long enough for skies to turn evening orange and settle coolness in the forest. Rich woodland quiet filled the atmosphere. For a long while he lay still and enjoyed the sensation of the troll cuddled to him. Contentment sighed through every relaxed muscle.
"We have to get up," he mumbled unwillingly.
"You don't have anything to eat here?" Poppy mumbled back.
"Not enough." Emptiness began to gnaw at the edges of his stomach. Surely it was the same for her. "What time was our dinner date tonight?"
Poppy rolled drowsily. "Let's go back together. I'll make something easy. Sandwiches. Fifteen minutes."
She must've had an intricate meal planned originally. Honeyed marshtato and merriflower medley. Or maybe that rock cultured roasted parzelle with trifold cheese they'd been wanting to try. He didn't mind missing it if it meant more together time. Sandwiches. Sandwiches was fine.
Her voice muffled against his chest. "You could stay the night."
"Really?" He piped before his brain caught up. They'd just nested together. Staying the night was a handshake to a kiss at this point.
Poppy pulled back enough he could see her expression, one that she wore when she thought he was being ridiculous. "Yes, really," she teased.
Even though the confirmation should've been obvious it relieved him to hear it. The thought of going home alone… He didn't want to leave her side. The tip of his tail caressed hers.
They really did need to get up.
Poppy shot him a knowing smile while he dressed. No, he wasn't showing his stripes for anyone else. And he wasn't getting all scratched up on the hike home.
They held hands and tails the whole way. The village's colorful tide of spots, stripes, and patches swept by while they walked. It was then Branch realized something. He glanced at Poppy. He'd been fascinated with her pure pink hue for so long it never occurred to him.
Poppy's lack of pattern was just as strange as his thick one. The only difference was she wore it loud and proud. She was so comfortable in her own fur no one ever thought to question it. Not even him.
Together they climbed the stairs to the queen's pod. Branch absently traced stitching on the edge of his vest while a glimmer of a thought seeded itself in his mind.
Maybe, just maybe, the trolls might someday look at him in the same carefree way they did their queen. And on that day there would be nothing worth gasping or gossiping about, no noteworthy oddities whatsoever, just two trolls side by side, one with three scarred stripes and the other with no markings at all.