Shadgirl2: Sorry for the long wait, everyone. But happy Valentine's Day!

Midna Azusa: We were revising the first 12 chapters of this, so you might want to go back and reread those. Some details have changed, and we added a little bit of fluff here and there.

Shadgirl2: And, since this is Valentine's Day and it took us forever to get this chapter out for everyone, we've got some Broppy fluff for you today!

Midna: Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: We don't own Trolls, The OCs in this chapter belong to Shadgirl2. The song used in this chapter is "Amarillo Sky" by Jason Aldean.

A few hours after their botched escape attempt, Poppy and Branch were tossed back into the jailhouse. The hole had been completely filled in, the area a bit muddy at the moment. Branch wasn't sure if the reason was to ensure it didn't stay too loose or to prevent them from digging it up again too soon. Either way, it was the least irritating part of his night.

After his very thorough strip search, Branch had even had his clothes confiscated when the Country Trolls who were searching him decided he had way too many tools on him for them to take any chances. They'd quickly gotten him some clothes in their style, the pants modified to fit on a 2-legged troll. To his frustration, he now found himself in a white and blue flannel shirt and a pair of dark brown pants that showed signs of wear, especially in the legs. The outfit had no pockets, and the jailers had even tied a brown cowboy hat to his head in an effort to keep him from using his hair. The hat had a couple of strings attached to the rim that the Country Trolls had brought down under his chin and then wrapped around his neck tightly enough that he couldn't pull the dumb thing off but loose enough that he could still breathe. He wasn't sure how they'd secured that knot, but he doubted somehow that he'd be getting it off without a knife or a pair of scissors...which, admittedly, Poppy probably had, but he'd agreed to behave himself and didn't have anything he could use to get out of here even without the hat.

"Well! That went well!" Poppy said, none too happy with the night's events herself. Branch had been given the thorough search, but she'd had one of her own (albeit less invasive). They'd taken her scissors, but not much else. Given that she'd seen Branch pick locks with scissors before, she couldn't blame them for confiscating those.

Larry was still up and strumming away on his guitar. He seemed completely oblivious to the murderous look Branch had about him. He looked like he would go psycho on anyone who dared speak to him right then, yet Larry still opened his mouth and said, "Howdy, Pop troublemakers. How'd it g—"

That's all the farther he got before Branch lunged, leaping up toward the bothersome Country Troll.

"Whoa, no, Branch!" Poppy cried as she lashed out with her hair to grab her high-strung boyfriend. She caught him in midair and just held him, wondering if Larry got a rush out of angering him.

Branch squirmed, trying to wriggle loose, reaching for Larry and pulling at the pink hair wrapped around him. "Let me at him! I swear, I'm gonna take that guitar and make you wear it!" he shouted.

"Branch. Chill out. It's not gonna help."

Branch growled but stopped fighting her, much to Poppy's relief. He was still glaring at Larry as Poppy put the blue troll down beside her and looked up at Larry lamely. "Seriously, though. What was that for? We could've all gotten out of here if you hadn't done that."

Larry gave a lazy shrug (although Poppy was beginning to think there was no point adding the descriptive word "lazy" to anything this guy did. Everything he did was lazy.) "Eh. What can I say? Yer Pop Trolls."

Distrust. It all came back to distrust again. Poppy slapped a hand to her face. "Ugh... Of course..."

"Really?" Branch asked, crossing his arms. "Then why were you so eager to flirt with her earlier?"

Larry shrugged again and answered, "Hey, what can I say? She had a good point 'bout that, at least." He gave a sly, teasing grin to Branch, showing no fear. He was a proud and strong Country Troll, and, besides that, Poppy seemed capable of handling things herself. Larry felt no need to back down to avoid any kind of fight, given that the girl would probably stop her jealous boyfriend. "Plus she is real purty-lookin' and—"

"And taken!" Branch snapped, leaning forward with his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Poppy put a hand on Branch's shoulder. He needed to calm down, and he needed to do it now before he popped a blood vessel or something. "Whoa. Easy, Branch. It's all good!" She gave him a reassuring smile, trying to hide her own nerves. Branch was scary when he was mad, but he was beyond mad right now. "He didn't—"

Branch whirled on her, still glaring, and snapped, "Don't start defending him!"

Apparently unbothered by Branch's continued fury, Larry yawned, stretching. "Well, I don't know 'bout y'all, but I'm gonna hit the hay. Try not to disturb Ol' Red again, alright?" he said as he lay down to sleep.

Branch wanted to hit him. He wanted to smack him around, strangle him, rip his face off. These weren't normal urges for trolls, but Branch was definitely seeing a huge appeal in doing these things to Larry. Even more than Creek, this guy got on Branch's nerves. Creek was a coward who'd abandon his friends to save himself, but at least he pretended to put others first and helped them with less dangerous things (Branch being the exception, not that he needed Creek for anything). Larry was a selfish, self-centered fool who didn't even have friends in the first place, and even Branch's own ridiculously forgiving group wouldn't possibly welcome this jerk with open arms. He growled, fists shaking, as he glared at that sorry excuse for a troll.

"He's right, Branch," Poppy said, squeezing Branch's shoulder gently to get his attention. "Nothing we can do about this right now, so—"

He whirled on her again and snapped, "I told you we shouldn't have come here! I told you it was a bad idea! Why did you insist on doing it!?"

"Easy, Branch!" she said, holding her hands up in a calming gesture. Sure, he was technically right, but coming here hadn't been the problem as much as what she'd done when she got here. Maybe she should have thought that one through a bit better. Now Branch was mad at her for that, too. "No need to freak out! Look, it's not as bad as it looks. All we've gotta do is show these guys that we're not here to steal their string or convert them to pop music, and we'll be out of here in no time!" She threw her arms out to the sides, cheery again.

Branch groaned, throwing his head back. This girl was exhausting sometimes. "You mean all I've gotta do. You're staying here with your new best friend, remember?"

Poppy sweat, thinking about that. He was right—Delta gave him a chance, not her. She didn't really know what that meant, but she did know that their hopes were now riding on Branch, the pessimist who, as much as she loved him, wasn't always the most charming guy around.

"...Right..." she said slowly. "So, uh, what are you gonna do? We gotta get these guys to change their minds somehow, Branch!" She threw her arms out to the sides, a slightly anxious look on her face. "I mean, unless you love dressing like a Country Troll, that is." She gestured at his new outfit.

Branch stared at her lamely for a moment, slumped over in annoyance. "...For one, I'm not going to be you."

Poppy just gave him a lame look. Did he really need to keep rubbing that in? Well, at least he didn't seem ready to break up with her over this. "You have no clue whatsoever. Do you?"

"Well, since they think we're here to turn them pop, I think I'm turning country."

Poppy gasped, a hand flying up to her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. Turning country? Country was the depressed genre! She'd come here with him to prevent that from happening! "Brranch!"

Her precious Butterfly's wings were beginning to wither away. She could imagine his mood dropping and his colors fading to gray already!

"What? I can't be trying to get rid of country if I start singing it, can I?" he asked, holding his hands out with the palms facing upward.

Okay, so he didn't plan on imitating the Country Trolls' attitude, but singing songs from the most miserable genre of all time? It was one thing to sing miserable songs to prove a point, but using them to impress someone? Poppy'd sooner marry Lazy Larry and become a carefree bum. If Branch insisted on taking that route, he'd be doing it alone.

"...Yeah, I'm going to bed now. Have fun with your hoedowns and rodeos, cowtroll. Think I'll pass on that one," Poppy answered with a lame look again as she headed for the bottom bunk. She climbed in, thinking about the horrible things Branch wanted to involve himself in. She'd been planning on giving the bed to Branch, but she had this feeling he'd just be up all night, fuming, at this point.

Branch rolled his eyes and said, "Typical." He then glared at the top bunk, debating tossing Larry out of it and onto the floor. He knew he wasn't sharing a bed with that mule.

Poppy climbed into the bottom bunk and slid over to the wall (just in case Branch did decide to join her) before she lay down to sleep. Above, Larry snorted and rolled over to his side, sucking his thumb a bit with a big, dumb smile on his face. Turning his attention to the bottom bunk, Branch decided it wasn't worth the fight. Sure, it seemed wrong to him that he share a bed with his girlfriend, and their friends would never let them hear the end of it if they ever found out, but he knew Poppy wouldn't care. Messing with Larry would just keep Poppy up, and, annoyed though he was with her, he didn't want to do that. He climbed into the bottom bunk, resolving to get back at Larry later.

Eyes closed, Poppy smiled, glad Branch wasn't picking any more fights or sleeping on the floor tonight, even though she thought he'd have preferred that to sharing a bed with her. His affection tolerance was so bad right now that he wouldn't even sleep in the same tent as any other boy on a camping trip—he insisted on sleeping alone. But, since he was beside her right now and really needed some attention, Poppy figured it couldn't hurt to give him a little extra. He was prone to snap at everyone right now, and sometimes all it took to calm him down were the right words or touch. Either that, or she'd make him uncomfortable by sharing a bed, which was more intimate than they'd ever been before. Regardless, she could get his mind off the situation for a bit. So, hoping this wouldn't bother him just because they were in a bed instead of on a couch or under a tree, Poppy draped an arm over his chest and snuggled up against him. Branch gave a slight start but didn't pull away, so she guessed this was okay. Thank goodness he wasn't so mad at her that he didn't want her close.

She knew Branch was mad at her for getting them thrown in jail, but she didn't understand why he seemed jealous of Larry. Sure, he was extremely rude and annoying, but there was no reason to freak out over it.

Branch looked at Poppy as she snuggled closer to him, slightly startled. Hadn't she been flirting with another guy earlier that day? Or had she been doing that thing where she's oblivious to everything going on around her again? That was probably it. She hadn't realized Larry'd been flirting and still hadn't figured it out, in spite of the repeated teasing going on. Well, at least he knew for sure that it was an honest mistake on Poppy's part. She wouldn't be cuddling with him if it wasn't.

Annoyance waning slightly, Branch slipped an arm under Poppy, wrapping it around her shoulders. She might have gotten them both thrown in jail, but he couldn't stay mad at her for long. She had good intentions, even when she messed up big time, and he knew it. Knowing he'd have a long day ahead of him come morning, he closed his eyes and fell asleep with Poppy right beside him.

Poppy could hardly believe it when he wrapped an arm around her. Maybe he'd actually let her kiss him sometime soon. With that happy thought, she drifted off to sleep and pleasant dreams of a good future with her boyfriend.

About 4 hours later, at the crack of dawn, Delta barged right into the jailhouse with a serious look in her eyes, calling, "Rise and shine, hon! Time to get to work!"

Poppy and Branch shot up and cried out, startled and wide-eyed. "Aah!"

"Up and at 'em, ya rascal!" Delta said, pulling a bullwhip from her hair and snapping it against the ground a few times to get Branch's attention. Clampers was poking her head out of her aunt's hair, and Wendy was at the mayor's side.

Branch sighed and got up. Given that he'd spent half the night on a failed escape attempt and the consequences of getting caught, he knew it was mostly his fault he was still so tired. No use complaining about it.

Poppy yawned, rubbing her tired eyes. "You're kidding... It's not even daylight yet..."

"That's where yer wrong, lil' lady!" Delta pointed off toward the east, saying, "The sun just started comin' up over the horizon." She rolled her eyes as she continued, "And, despite what some trolls 'round here seem to think, there's a ton of work to get done before it sets!" She pointed up at the top bunk and leaned forward, glaring up at Larry, frustrated, as she added, "I'm talkin' to you, ya lazy sack of bones! Learn it!"

"Might be a good idea," Branch muttered, in full agreement that Larry needed to learn to actually work once in a while.

"Yeah! Get a job, Larry!" Clampers agreed, waving a fist at him.

Larry just grunted and rolled his eyes in annoyance before he rolled over to face the wall. Poppy blinked, eyes wide in shock. Did they actually consider this morning? It was still dark out!

Delta put her hands on her hips and shook her head, annoyed. "Honestly. What am I gonna do with him?" She'd been doing this same thing with this guy ever since she became mayor, and it was really starting to get old. Couldn't he learn his lesson already? He was 35 years old and still living with his parents because of how lazy he was.

Putting that matter aside, she turned her attention to the blue Pop Troll, looking commanding and firm as she said, "Well, come on, boy! Time's a-wastin'!" She hitched a thumb over her shoulder, still holding the bullwhip's handle.

"Right," Branch said as he followed her.

Poppy just sat in bed and watched, stunned. They get up and start work at dawn? Who does that? And when do they have time for fun if all they ever do is work? She lay back down, exasperated. "Maybe Larry's right. They do work too hard around here."

Larry leaned over the edge of the top bunk and grinned at her. "Heh. I knew ya'd see it my way, lil'—"

"Oh, be quiet!" Poppy cut him off, throwing her pillow at him in annoyance.

Seriously. He had no right to be acting like that after all the trouble he'd caused. No, she wasn't thinking of the mutiny—she'd started that, too. She was thinking of the whole "Branch is going to snap somebody's neck while Larry eggs him on" thing from the day before and the "let's sing an oddly fitting country song to alert the jail warden to the fact that someone's trying to break out" thing. It was almost like he enjoyed driving people crazy.

Delta got her prisoner started with a quick breakfast of sausage, biscuits, and gravy in a tiny diner called Sally's Home Grown Diner. It was inside a brown trailer with a white sign bearing the diner's name in brownish-orange paint. The door was a screen door, grayish-green in color. Inside, the walls were brown, and a brown bar stood on one end, with stools lining it. Rectangular tables were attached to the walls with four wooden chairs sitting around them, and each table had a window beside it. The entrance to the kitchen was behind the bar, and there was another door beside the bar that led to a small restroom. Branch had a seat at the table Delta indicated and noticed two letters carved into a heart on the tabletop—B and W. Whoever those two were, they'd apparently carved their initials into the wood of someone else's table. That was really romantic, Branch thought sarcastically.

During breakfast, Delta went over the agenda for today. Wendy stood by the prisoner, guarding him in case he tried to escape. "Alright, hon. Here's how this is goin' down. Today, I'm gonna have ya helping out down at Robert's farm. Ye'll be helpin' him out with plowin' the fields and carin' for the farm critters. Got that?" Delta said, looking at him firmly.

"Yeah," Branch answered.

"Good. Then hurry up and eat. We're headin' over there in 15 minutes, whether yer ready or not," she said, eating her own breakfast.

Branch did as he was told, only mildly surprised that this unusual breakfast was actually not half bad.

After breakfast, Delta took Branch out to Robert's farm on the outskirts of town. She insisted on having Wendy carry the Pop Troll on her back, much to Branch's initial annoyance. That is, until he realized that the two Country Trolls would be running the whole way there. Delta, for her part, didn't think a soft little Pop Troll could make this trip on foot without wasting lots of time and being exhausted by the time they arrived. After all, it was about eight miles to the house.

As they headed out of town (moving rather more quickly than Branch could on his own), they soon found themselves running up a paved road with a white picket fence, with six empty fields on the other side. Each was about 2 square miles, separated by fences. The three closest to the road appeared to have been plowed recently, but the three farther away were harder to see.

Toward the end of the road, Branch saw three barns and a grain silo. The barns were about 30 feet apart, and the silo stood about 20 feet back from two of the barns. The four buildings were red with white rooftops, all seemingly made of some quilted material and held together by rope, like everything else in town. Branch wondered briefly how these guys got their buildings to stand at all if they were all just fabric stitched together.

All the way out here, the paved road was gone, and a dirt road wove its way into all parts of the farm (although it was hard to tell, given that everything out here was dirt). It started at the end of the pavement, stopped in front of each building, and wove out toward the fields, forming intersections between them all.

The barn in the middle had a white fence around the front and a small brown chicken coop nearby, surrounded by its own fence of chicken wire. Wandering around in that corner were some chicken-like birds with yellow feathers and blue-tipped wings. Their beaks were green with a red stripe, their legs the same but with two stripes instead. One had a blue crown with orange spots around it.

The closest barn was about the size of a pod back in Troll Village and had a dark brown troll with an orange nose, blue eyes, and white hair leaning against the wall by the door. He had bushy eyebrows, a beard, and a mustache and was holding a cup of coffee in his hand, front legs crossed. The troll was wearing a white flannel shirt with thin yellow lines, blue denim overalls, and a tan cowboy hat. Branch figured the guy was probably in his 50s or 60s, but he looked like he could handle a lot more hard work than any Pop Troll (well, besides Branch himself, anyway). On the ground beside him sat a lunchbox with an orange star on it and a gray thermos spotted with brown hearts. A strange-looking critter, dark green with a flat backside that was lower than its front, sat on the dirt road, maybe 10 feet from the troll. It had furry black antennae on its head. (In Lonesome Flats, they called these creatures pickup bugs, but Branch had never seen or heard of such a creature before.)

"Robert!" Delta said, approaching the troll in question. "This here's Branch from Pop Village." She hitched a thumb at the Pop Troll as he hopped off Wendy's back.

Branch wanted to correct her—Troll Village. They didn't name their town after their genre. But he kept his mouth shut.

"He's got some time to serve for crimes against the state and has chosen to help ya out to pay it off," Delta finished.

"Well, alright, Miss Mayor. I just hope he's up to the job." Robert looked at Branch doubtfully, lowering his cup as he spoke. Pop Trolls were soft, and everyone knew it.

"Oh, I'm sure he is," Delta answered, sarcastic. "He dug us a lovely new mine late last night and all." She looked at Branch with a smirk on her face.

Branch rolled his eyes and said, "Well, don't arrest people for not controlling their own queen."

Robert nodded and said, "Alright, then. Come with me, Branch." He started off for the pickup bug, and the other three followed.

Robert directed Branch into the back of the pickup bug, where some bales of hay acted as seats along the sides. Branch climbed in, along with Wendy, who would be acting as his "parole officer," whatever that meant.

Delta watched them as they drove off, feeling a bit worried. "Here's hopin' that there fella keeps out of trouble this time. I've got more important things to do than put up with all their Pop Troll nonsense! Like findin' a way to stop Larry's shenanigans once and for all." Now feeling extremely annoyed at that trouble-maker again, Delta headed back toward town, thinking maybe Pete or Holly Darling would have some ideas for her. Dolly knows she was fresh out of ideas by now.

As they drove through the fields, Branch could see that the fields farther from the road were not plowed, and he had a feeling he knew what he'd be doing today. Sure enough, they reached the farthest field and climbed out to see a slightly rusty red-brown, old-fashioned plow sitting in the unplowed field. This kind of plow looked like it was meant to be pulled by an animal while someone else steered it to keep it on course. A John Deere green tractorfly (yet another creature Branch had never heard of) sat in the plowed field, waiting. A hoe and a rake were leaning against the fence.

Besides the equipment, there was another Country Troll out here, tan-yellow with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and an orange nose. He wore a red and white flannel shirt, a brown vest and tattered blue jeans, and a white cowboy hat, and he had some peach fuzz on his face. He looked closer to Branch's age, maybe five, ten years older at the most. He tossed his head back, draining his coffee cup, and chewed on a piece of hay as the other four walked up. Like Robert, he had a lunchbox and a thermos here. The thermos had an orange smiley face on it and the lunchbox had green polka dots that were the same shade as the tractorfly.

"Alright, this here's my son, Junior," Robert introduced, gesturing at his son. "Junior, this here's Branch. He'll be helpin' ya out with the plowin' today."

"Howdy!" Junior said, tipping his hat a bit as he gave a bright smile and tossed his empty cup aside. "Ready to get this here field all set for this year's harvest!?" He jumped around excitedly a bit as he spoke. He then gave a start as he looked at Branch. Junior crossed his arms, giving Branch a suspicious and cautious look that told Branch all he needed to know about the guy's thoughts, and said, "Hey, wait a—You're that Pop Troll that started that—"

Clearly, the guy didn't want to work with a trouble-maker—or maybe he just didn't want to work with a Pop Troll since Country Trolls seemed to view those two terms as synonyms.

"No!" Branch cut him off firmly, waving his arms in front of him. "My queen started it. I wanted her to stop, but she never listens to me, anyway."

He loved her, really, but she drove him crazy sometimes. She'd been doing better at listening to him lately, but that didn't make this event any less frustrating, and Junior's reaction was enough to remind Branch of why he was annoyed yesterday.

"Anyway, boys, one of y'all will need to strap the plow onto ya. Junior, I think it'd make the most sense for you to pull it. Branch'll steer."

Junior frowned, shoulders slumping. He stomped a foot, like a whiny kid, and protested, "Aw, but, Pa! That thing's heavy, and—"

"Now, Junior, t'wouldn't be right to expect somebody without hooves to do it," Robert cut him off, gently chiding.

Junior slouched over, his arms dangling in front of him, and hung his head in defeat. "Aw, alright... I'll do it..." Junior reluctantly went to get himself hooked up to the plow, muttering, "Glad it's Friday, at least. TGIF."

"That's the spirit, son!" Robert said, smiling, as he pumped a fist through the air in front of him. He turned to Branch and said, "Your part's easy. All ya gotta do's keep the plow straight so's it makes a nice, straight line. Think you can handle that?"

"Easily," Branch answered, going to grab the plow's handles.

Robert nodded, satisfied, then said, "Hope you ain't as bad as yer queen."

Branch rolled his eyes and answered, "If I'm as bad as her, then Troll Village is doomed."

"All set, Pa!" Junior said, sounding a bit more eager than he had a moment ago. He pranced around eagerly, apparently full of energy, despite his reluctance to pull the plow earlier.

"Right, now, y'all need to plow the last three fields today, Junior. Two square miles each," Robert instructed.

Three fields, all Two square miles, and they all needed plowed today. This was going to be a long day.

Thanks, Poppy. Thanks a lot, Branch complained silently.

"Okay, Pa! Got it!" Junior said, and he started pulling the plow happily.

"While you're takin' care of that, I'll go harrow the other fields," Robert said as he started off. "Come find me when yer done! I'll give you your next job!"

Branch wasn't sure how much he was expected to do today, but the fact that this guy had more work in mind for after they finished manually plowing three fields didn't bode well for him.

"Ya mean shovelin' and bundlin' hay, sheerin' the puffalos, helpin' Ma out in the kitchen, and eggin' the stripe hens?" Junior asked, and the fact that he said they had to "egg" the stripe hens, like he was talking about milking cows, was actually a bit comical. Branch imagined him throwing an egg at one of those stripe hens and actually cracked a smile.

"Well, that's your work, Junior," Robert answered, stopping to answer his son. "But Branch'll have other chores."

Huh. These guys sound like me, Branch thought, hearing all the work they did. Compared to the other Pop Trolls, Branch was a hard worker, and the Country Trolls apparently were, too. Other than Larry, anyway.

"Alright, Pa! See ya later!" Junior called, waving. He then sped up, needing to get this done right and quick. The sooner the work was done, the sooner he could party. After all, the weekend was almost here!

Branch followed behind, trying to keep this plow straight as Junior pulled on. Wendy leaned on a wooden fence nearby and watched, crossing her arms and bored but focused on her own work of guarding Branch. Robert nodded and headed off, leaving the boys to plow the field.

I'm going to kill Larry for this! And I'm never coming back to Lonesome Flats again. Ever! Branch thought as he struggled to keep the plow straight. It was harder than it looked.

To pass the time, Junior started singing, "He just takes the tractor another round. Pulls the plow across the ground." He rocked his head from side to side as he sang, mindful to keep his body stable so he didn't shake the plow around too much.

"Fitting," Branch said, wondering what a tractor was and briefly wishing Junior had one to pull the plow instead. Meanwhile, over in the other field, Robert climbed onto the unusual critter and started pulling something across the ground. Seeing this, Branch thought he now knew what a tractor was.

"And sends up another prayer! He says, 'Lord, I never complain, I never ask why. Please don't let my dreams run dry...'" He had a smile on his face as he sang, seemingly having not a care in the world.

Figuring this would help him earn the Country Troll's trust (and maybe get Wendy to put a good word in for him with Delta), Branch joined him, and the two sang, "'Underneath, underneath this Amarillo sky!'"

Junior looked back at Branch, smiling somewhat surprised but happy as the Pop Troll unexpectedly joined the song. Branch smiled back, trying to be friendly. After all, whether he liked this town or not, Junior wasn't Larry or Delta, so there was no need to be overly hostile. He wanted to gain their trust and prove he wasn't a threat, after all. Junior kept right on singing, getting more into his song as they worked. Branch's plan seemed to be working as Junior started making gestures at Branch, smiling happily at him like they were old friends. His energy was infectious, and Branch got more into it himself as they continued.

"He says, 'I never complain, I never ask why. Please don't let my dreams run dry! Underneath this, underneath this Amarillo sky...'"

Junior stopped pulling the plow and turned to look at Branch, smiling and saying, "Ya know what, Branch? Yer alright. For a Pop Troll, that is."

"Thanks," Branch answered. Honestly, Junior wasn't bad himself. Better than Larry, for sure.

Excited to be working with an accepting Pop Troll, Junior reared up. "Alright! Then let's stop wastin' time and get this here field done!" He put his front feet back on the ground. "There's a big bonfire tonight, and I don't wanna miss it!" He turned back to work, reared up again, and took off, pulling the plow across the ground. "Yeehaw!"

This guy reminded Branch of a lot of Pop Trolls—full of energy, eager, and hyper. Maybe they weren't so different, after all. Branch worked hard, like these guys, and Junior had Pop Troll energy. Surely they could get along.

As for Junior's comment about missing the bonfire, what he knew that Branch didn't was simple: Because of Lazy Larry, anyone who didn't finish their work before a big party had to finish before they could join. For obvious reasons, this meant Larry was never allowed at any parties, and Junior didn't want to be stuck working while everyone else had fun, either.

"Yeah!" Branch answered, although he didn't really care about the bonfire. He'd probably be back in jail by tonight, anyway.

However, he was starting to like Junior. Making a new friend was making this irritating journey less irritating, and Branch was actually feeling a fair bit better now as he kept up with his morning chores. The two kept singing a variety of country songs involving work, actually having some fun while getting their work done.