.
Not A Nest (ending)
Branch wasn't at his bunker this afternoon. Either he refused to answer his boulder-door-thing, or he was away. Since she couldn't find him anywhere he must be at the lookout. If he was all the way over there, taking care of his area and watching for growlbeasts, he was probably hungry.
Hence her current predicament.
From her hiding spot Poppy stared at the katkat seedpod lying on the moss. It was big, about the length of her arm, and thicker. Three raised bumps along the fuzzy pod hinted at the round katkat beans inside.
She'd gotten this close. She could totally do this.
Moss tickled the soles of her feet as she crouched. Her fingertips needled into the greenery. Tension lanced up her arms. Was this too stiff? Wait, nevermind, focus on the seedpod. She wiggled, feeling the ground, tail drifting behind her so it didn't drag. Aaaand… now? Now!
Poppy pounced. As soon as she leapt the pod zoomed out of sight. Earth slapped despairingly into her empty hands, but she didn't wait; she jumped a second time.
The vine attached to the seedpod zipped into a hole, taking the pod with it. In an instant the nutritious katkats vanished. Moss swallowed up the hole as if it'd never been.
Her hands landed a second later. Paff into the ground.
"Sugar!"
She scrabbled at the moss with her stubby fingers and wished for a shovel. Not that it'd do any good since the vine burrowed deep. It'd take forever to dig up.
Poppy planted her butt with a huff. Soon afterward Smidge walked up.
Smidge said, "Better. But. Uh. Still no."
"It's okay, I can try again!"
"Poppy, that was the last katkat I could find this side of the tree."
She cursed a second time. This was not her strongest skill. Far from it.
"Why the sudden interest in hunting?" Smidge asked. "You were never that into it before."
"I dunno. I got better at tag and thought it'd be the same thing?"
"It is the same. You have to sneak up on them like your life depends on it and then… RRrraghgRHG!"
Smidge continued to give pointers on Poppy's stance, warned her not to even THINK about cutting katkat vines because their poisonous rash oils stuck to everything, and blah blah blah.
"No shortcuts," Smidge gruffed, fist punched into palm. "Hunting takes practice. And many hours of lying in wait for the perfect moment. Heh heh heh."
"Right. But what if I need to catch something now?"
"That's more the foraging or farming game."
Poppy picked at the moss by her feet. Those weren't exactly her forte either.
Smidge folded her arms. "Take a gift basket or something then. We all know you've been seeing someone. Who is it? 'Fess up."
"I um, it's…" Poppy twisted her fingers. "...a secret?"
"It's Branch isn't it," Smidge said flatly.
"Uggggh." Poppy fell to her back and spread out like a pink troll star on the mossy patch. "He's good at building and hunting. How am I even supposed to compete?"
"It's a competition?"
"All I want to do is bring something I caught with my own two hands. It's not that hard! But somehow I keep mucking it up."
"Yeah. So, like I said. Gift basket."
"It's going to look really lousy when the princess can't even catch something for the troll she's seriously interested in. What kind of a courtship is that?" And yeah! That was another thing! "He doesn't even want to call it courting. So, I shouldn't assume we are. But. We are."
"Aaaand I can see you're not listening."
"Maybe he doesn't see me the same way. I guess I don't want to ask because it's kind of fun not knowing? It's like being stuck at the top of the Big Squeeze with no idea when it'll drop. It's exhilarating but also you think you might barf before the end of it."
"Poppy!" Smidge barked.
"Huh? Yeah?"
"If you're that determined to show Branch how stubborn—er—what a good hunter you are, then there is one other way."
Poppy jolted up. "Ooh, yes! The other way. Show me."
Smidge withdrew a shovel from her hair and stabbed the point into the dirt.
x x x
In Poppy's arms the large katkat pod fit like a plush toy. Proudly she carried it toward Branch's lookout. Even though she was somewhat dirtied and scraped from all the digging, beating nightfall in time to deliver her prize took priority over a full fur grooming.
The sun hung low, hiding behind trees, dusting the tall grass prairie beyond Troll Village in orange hues. Overhead a round moon appeared against clear sky. Soon stars would join it, growing brighter as full dark descended.
She was almost there when she heard something. Her victory parade slowed. There it was again: a lovely low melody.
The tip of her hair coiled around the katkat and lifted the pod from her hands so she could creep forward. A fallen tree limb blocked her view. Carefully she planted her palms on the bark. She peered over it.
In the clearing Branch grasped a crispy leaf twice his size. He dragged it along, bringing it to the edge of his territory to push it past the rock boundary. All the while he hummed.
That's the music she'd heard. Branch was humming. He purred low and sweet with the smooth tones of a pop ballad.
Shock rooted Poppy to the spot.
Without words he quietly sang. The tune followed him as he tidied up his area. His black-tipped tail swayed in a slow dance, dipping to sweep a few leaf scraps off the grass. Swish, swish.
Enchanted. She was enchanted. She'd witnessed all kinds of loud elaborate displays, carefree dances and songs, shy hesitations, and none of it compared to the domestic scene unfolding here. Branch wasn't even trying to get her attention. He was just doing his thing.
Her hair curled tighter around the katkat pod. A gray ear flicked in her direction and she held her breath so he wouldn't hear.
Branch's ear swiveled back to his tasks. He kept humming as he swept the last evening-blown debris out of his courtyard. Then, he paused, simply to look out over his domain. With satisfaction he appreciated the neat grass. Job well done. Branch—dare she think it—was happy.
He picked up an armful of sticks that'd been set aside. Then he walked away, continuing his song. He had no clue she was there.
She shouldn't.
But.
Poppy silently followed Branch.
Into the foreign forest he went, drawing her along on a musical hook without even knowing. Lush ferns spanned overhead. Lands unknown passed underfoot.
Branch's ballad led her all the way to a savannah of moss-coated boulders. She saw his gray fur squeeze into a crevice, his tail disappearing after him.
This was his nest. Equal parts excitement and worry pulled at her fur. She shouldn't be here. She wasn't supposed to hear this. She was intruding and she needed to leave but she couldn't.
Before she could back out Branch emerged from the hideaway and perched atop a small sitting rock. With a jolt she recognized the painted rock. He'd kept the token of affection close.
From his spot he surveyed the woods with uncertainty and suspicion. Softly, unsure, he said, "Poppy?"
She could probably still run, but…
Somehow she'd been caught.
In the falling twilight she crept shyly from the underbrush. She hadn't meant to spy, really! The katkat pod hung from the tip of her hair, and she wished she'd had more time to clean the dirt from her fur.
Alarm pierced Branch's voice. "Poppy! What happened!"
He rushed over and snatched her hand. Granules of dirt scratched earth encrusted fur. Similar mess coated her arms, legs, and dress. She may have understated how dirty she was. Just a little.
Branch immediately yanked her by the hand into the rocks. One second she was outside, the next stone scraped her fur and she stumbled down a slope into darkness. She tried to keep up with her pulled hand but her next step landed on open air.
Unexpectedly her free falling foot jarred into the floor. She tripped on the smooth incline and crashed into Branch.
He caught her without flinching. Firm hands steadied her shoulders. For an instant she existed mashed up to a fuzzy chest and little felt leaves.
Then Branch swirled past, hauled a thick slab of tree bark over the entrance, and slammed two sturdy branches into bolt holds across it. He pressed an ear to the homemade door with razor focus. All this before she had a chance to speak.
Stunned, Poppy tried to take in what'd happened.
They were underground. She felt the smallness of the space in the way the air lay dormant. It was dark but warm, no windows at all. The only light came from a blanket of glowing moss on part of the curved dome.
Faint glow illuminated the hard dirt-packed hovel. Dim shadows revealed stacked sticks, sparse items, and a charred pit at the back of the room. But the thing that took up most of the tiny space was a substantial pile of cotton fluff. Its center lay flat from many nights curled up inside.
Branch slept there. He'd made a cloud nest.
She pictured him all smoky gray and cozy, snuggled into the cotton cloud, fluffing the outside edge before pulling it over himself. Then he'd curl into a snug gray Branch ball. She imagined being beside him. They'd nuzzle into each other's fur before tucking the cotton over goodnight.
Poppy daydreamed about cuddling Branch in his bed, in his nest, and he was right there. His stern presence at the doorway was a pressing weight altogether too close and not close enough.
Thank sugar stars he couldn't read her thoughts because for a moment she fantasized he'd shut them both down here for romance. She invented a world where they'd bonded, played together to get good and tired, and he'd led her here to take a cuddle nap.
It wasn't about to happen with a troll who disliked hugging and who was currently at his barred entryway muttering, "I knew it. I knew this would happen."
The dismay in his voice brought her back to reality. "Knew what would happen?" she asked.
"I knew you were going to get hurt if you kept coming out here."
"I'm not—"
But Branch was on a roll. He launched off the door, circling her, poking points of interest, cursing the low light visibility. "What happened? What got you? Why aren't you at the doctor's, oh, no, oh no the bergens. I knew it. I knew it! The village, everyone…"
"Branch I'm fine! I was digging."
"Digging." It seemed to sink in. It's not like she was bleeding. "Digging," he repeated. Gradually the heightened breaths puffing his chest slowed.
There were no bergens. No troll-hungry critter had attacked her. He brought her here thinking it was an emergency when it wasn't. All she'd been doing was a little excavation, same as he'd done to carve out this cave.
Branch sank to the ground and plopped onto his bottom. He looked like a dazed teddy bear, legs and tail straight out, hands loosely on the floor between. "Then… why?..."
In his panic he'd missed the seedpod. She lowered it from the tip of her hair. Its fibery outside pressed to her chest as she gripped the sizeable pod in a light hug, wishing the affection for Branch. Then she laid the plant in front of his hands.
He stared at the offering. She'd caught this for him, maybe not by the traditional means he'd appreciate, but still. It had to count for something, right?
...Right?
He reached out and rolled his fingers across the shell. It tilted slightly from the contact.
With his hand resting on the gift he looked up at her.
Even in the wan light his eyes were so clear, and so… lost. His saddened eyebrows made him look almost hurt, like an abandoned puppy. Like, What am I supposed to do with this Poppy? but not in a mean way—as if the gift had hit an emotional wound. What am I supposed to do?
"I thought you might be hungry," she tried to explain, her ears sinking.
Branch's gaze drifted back to the katkat pod under his hand. He quietly let out a long exhale.
He was hurt. Branch was a troll who hurt on the inside in a place she couldn't see. Hurt inside, hurt outside, it didn't matter; she needed to comfort him.
In the dark her hand reached out, a shadowy rose color so close to making contact with the troll at her feet. She shouldn't hug him. She knew he didn't like it. But when he acted so lonely she couldn't not touch him.
Fingertips sank into silky soft evernight hair at the crest of his forehead. Her touch rested motionless, barely a butterfly on his bowed head. Through the pads of her fingers she could feel his rigid posture. It was not the pliable willingness of a happy troll. He didn't want even this ghost of a touch.
She didn't know what else to do. This is what the Princess did. Gave hugs. Threw parties. Took care of the trolls. None of it worked for Branch.
Yet…
Standing under glowing moss in the close and quiet burrow, Poppy felt the moment he gave in.
Soft strands shifted. He leaned ever so slightly. As he relaxed the hand resting on his head drifted down with him. And somehow, it was enough.
She always wanted more more more, gleefully anticipating every big stride, every new thing she could pull from him. But right now in the private dark, Branch accepting this tiny gesture, it was enough.
Poppy withdrew her touch.
He wouldn't look at her. He pulled the katkat pod closer to himself. "I need to tell you something."
The seriousness in his tone was frightening.
"All this, Poppy, I don't know."
Oh. Her heart sank.
"You're always trying to make me happy, trying to get me to sing. Hair, around you sometimes I think I might on accident. It's annoying. I don't sing."
"Why not? If you feel like it you should!"
"I don't sing because…" emotion thickened his words. He struggled to keep going. "...the last time I sang my grandma got taken by a bergen. Right in front of me. It was aiming for me and she pushed me out of the way and she...
"I was too distracted. If I hadn't been singing, if I hadn't…" his voice tightened until he couldn't talk.
Poppy hugged him. She fell to her knees beside him and gathered his gray form into her arms, burying her face into the side of his neck. He didn't resist. He didn't hug back. It didn't matter. How horrible. How awful.
In an instant she had clarity for Branch's entire life that she'd never had before. So much of it all made sense now. There were no words she could give to make up for the loss. A hug was sort of the best she had.
"It was a long time ago," he finally said.
"Yeah, but!..."
He gently pried himself from her grasp. They remained next to each other on the hardened earth floor.
"I can't sing like the other trolls. So, if you need that, I can't."
"Of course I don't need that!" Is this where all this was coming from? Because he thought he had to sing?
Branch gave her a wary, almost sour look. "The Princess of Pop is really okay with that?"
"Yes!" Her mind was still reeling. "How many people know this? Does anybody know what happened?"
"Anyone older than me remembers. I'm guessing no one talks about it because, you know," he shrugged, "trolls."
It wasn't a happy memory. People didn't mention Trollstice outside of legendary fairy tales. Poppy never would have thought Branch… he was so young… and he remembered it. What would he have been? Four? Five? "Branch, I'm so sorry."
He sighed and turned away, busying himself with peeling open the katkat pod. "Here. Let's eat and then I'll take you back to the troll tree."
But she didn't want to go home. She wanted to stay here, with him.
Branch cut one of the round seeds into quarters. He placed a piece on a leaf and slid it over to her. "Since when do you hunt, anyway?"
"I don't. But I have to, because…"
"Because that's what everyone expects?"
Oh. Maybe they were both silly fiddleheads. "You don't mind that I'm not very good at it?"
He shook his head no.
Even though she couldn't see his face while he stored the extra katkat, she could tell by the way he slowed down that he was thinking about whether he should speak his mind. He often repressed his feelings.
"I like your cooking," he said.
He'd basically just confessed that he remembered past gifts she'd given, and enjoyed them. Over the years she'd tried charming him with homemade sweets, snacks, and even a few lunches. It hadn't worked. Or so she'd thought.
"All the ingredients are from the market," she said.
"So?"
He really didn't mind. She wasn't self-sufficient like him, and he was okay with it.
x x x
Poppy had a lot to think about on the way home.
Branch followed while they traveled the moonlit landscape. They passed the bunker and entered the village together. He took her right to her doorstep.
One of the last things she saw that night was the gray troll just outside her threshold, hands shoved in his pockets, tail hugging his leg, while she gave a tiny wave goodnight.
x x x
Zig zag blades of craft scissors crunched through colored paper. Poppy sat up in the troll tree, tail dangling over the edge, snipping and gluing invitations. Celebrate freedom from the bergens the chiptune sang.
For the first time she hadn't decided whether to invite Branch or not. He never came to this party. Now that she knew why, it felt wrong to insist he go. At the very least she'd ask if he wanted to be invited or not. It wasn't in her to leave him out entirely.
She felt rather than heard the band of hair swirl around her perch.
Branch whirled neatly onto the wood with a thud. "Scrapbooking. Why am I not surprised?"
"Party invitations, actually." She stuffed a completed card into an envelope and added it to the basket on her right. He'd taken her by surprise. Most of their time together happened in the deep forest. "What can I do for you, mister security guard?"
He snorted. "Nothing. I needed some supplies and was in the area."
Sure enough, he had his brown rucksack with him. He set it down and it chimed with the sound of glass on glass. Storage jars?
Branch sat nearby and dangled his feet over the edge the way she did, looking down at the village. He seemed content. Poppy continued crafting.
"Which party is it this time?" he asked.
"It's, um. The one you never go to."
He slid nearer so he could see the pieces she'd made so far.
"Should I make you a card anyway?" she asked.
"...Yeah."
That made her happy. Even if he rarely participated in village activities maybe he appreciated the invites. She didn't want him to think he'd been forgotten. Honestly she thought about him a lot.
She drew a cartoon hair shape onto a paper. At her side a couple unfinished cards sat waiting. Branch scooched closer and picked up one of the works-in-progress to have a look.
Intensely aware of spatial distance between her and any huggable creature at any given time, it was impossible for Poppy to not notice how close he was. Even without touching she could feel him there. He had a solid, warm presence.
She played it cool. Her scissors followed the pencil outline on the stack of papers. Crrk. Crrrk. Schiff. With the last cut, colored troll hair cutouts fell into her lap. Time to glue them to the characters.
Branch happened to be between her and the other half of her craft supplies. Rather than reach over him with her hair she said, "Um, the gluestick over there..."
He passed her the tube.
Poppy started gluing.
He went back to studying the unfinished card. They were both fully occupied.
That's when she felt a brushy touch greet the middle of her tail. It cautiously stayed there. The fluffy sensation made Poppy's fur prick. His tail mingled with hers and it was no accident.
Slowly the black tip spiraled around her tail like a promise ring. The slim part encircled hers. Soft flocked skin brushed skin. Down, down the soothing feeling gently slid. Black puff came to rest alongside pink.
Branch held her tail lightly linked with his.
To anybody else it would've looked like friendly tail holding. Coming from Branch it felt like so much more. If there were a confession to be made, he'd made it.
Somehow they'd become this close.
Singing or no singing, colors or no colors. She liked Branch how he was. Her grumpy, mostly-gray troll.
Poppy gave his tail a little squeeze.
Neither of them let go after that.
