"WOWIE! YOU DID IT! YOU DIDN'T DO A VIOLENCE! TO BE HONEST, I WAS A LITTLE AFRAID. BUT YOU'RE ALREADY BECOMING A GREAT PERSON! I'M SO PROUD I COULD CRY. WAIT, WASN'T I SUPPOSED TO CAPTURE YOU...WELL FORGET IT! I JUST WANT YOU TO BE THE BEST PERSON YOU COULD BE. SO LET'S LET BYBONES BE BYBONES."

Their hands are shaking as Papyrus leaves. It's hard to breathe, like she had just gotten out of the fiercest battles. They stand there for a long time after Papyrus leaves but she don't know why. Her knife clatters to the ground.

She doesn't know why she's done anything she has. She shouldn't have spared him. She should have killed him like the rest. In this world, it's kill or be killed. It's hurt or get hurt. She shouldn't have accepted his mercy, because he's going to hurt her just like the others. They all hurt her in the end never let them get close never show them mercy no mercy no mercy no mercy she calls for help

* But nobody came.

They wipe at their eyes, trying to remove tears they aren't crying. More Dust gets in them than before but it's a good feeling. It was just a mistake. They can go back and fix it.

They call for help.

She wonders how much longer they're going to keep this up. It shouldn't be much longer now, she thinks.

The end will be here soon. She will erase this world.

* Reset

Two are the Trees

An Undertale/Over the Garden Wall crossover fanfiction

By the Poor Sap Advocate

Chapter 1

"Antelope, Guggenheim, Albert, Salami, Giggly, Jumpy, Tom, Thomas, Tambourine, Leg Face McCullen, Artichoke, Penguin, Pete, …Steve…but I think the worst name for this frog is—"

"Wait, wait a second."

Their surroundings were just becoming clear to him. It was dark, barely bright enough to see his brother in front of him. The only light came from above, and it looked miles away.

"Uh, Greg," said Wirt. "Where are we?"

"Underground?" Greg offered.

"Weren't we in the woods a few moments ago?" Wirt asked.

Greg hummed and thought, and turned to his frog for a second opinion. The frog let out a slightly confused croak.

"Nevermind," said Wirt. "Let's just…keep going the way we were."

"I don't think we can climb that high," said Greg.

"No, Greg, I meant forward."

And forward they went. The light in the caves grew as they travelled down the corridor, though Wirt couldn't figure out why. It was becoming increasingly clear they were somewhere in a cave or underground or both, and the light source above was fading. Wirt could see almost everything in his way now, from the cave walls to the beds of flowers to the…

A golden flower, looking at them with a very confused expression.

"Hello Mr. Flower," said Greg.

The flower made a face that Wirt couldn't quite read.

"More of you? Really?" the flower asked. "Alright. Let's get started then."

It was dark, wherever Frisk ended up. It was also cold; not quite as cold as Snowdin, but cold enough that they tugged their sweater closer to them. The moon shone above them, so it's not the Underground, and it was a quarter moon uneclipsed so it wasn't the Other Toriel's world. They are in a forest, so thick with trees that it's hard to see if there was supposed to be a road. It's something completely new to them.

Yet they still felt determined.

*File SAVED

They did not know how long they walk in the woods alone. It was hard to measure time when the only repeating pattern is stepping on twigs. Eventually, the repetitive sounds came from something hard smacking against wood. Frisk decided to follow that.

More sounds became audible as they walked closer. Sounds of breaking branches. Sounds of one moving around the ground. Sounds of humming, not so much a song as it was a march. Frisk only got close enough to see something humanoid walking away from the sight, the sounds carrying after them.

"Hey kid? What're you doing out here?"

That sound came from behind the scene. Frisk had to turn around and crane their neck to see their addresser-a small bluebird perched on one of the higher branches.

"You're not lost, are ya?" the bluebird asked.

Frisk shrugged. They had no idea where they were supposed to be heading anyway.

The bluebird groaned, and buried her face in her wing. "Well, do you need—?"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE?"

Frisk froze at the voice. They stayed frozen as the light shines in their eyes. The bluebird murmured something and flies off but they did not quite hear it over the pounding of their heart. They did not unfreeze until the light of the lantern grew enough that they could make out the holder's face. Just the woodsman from before. Frisk let themself wave a bit to be friendly.

The woodsman gives them a steady glare. "These woods are no place for a child like you. Don't you know the Beast is afoot here?"

Flowers did not have faces. Goats were not bipedal and matronly. And there certainly wasn't an entire society of monsters living under a mountain. Wirt was fairly certain of these things. At least, he had been up until fifteen minutes ago. He concluded that, in order for him to be seeing the flowers with faces and motherly goats, he must either be dreaming or going crazy. Possibly both.

Greg, however, had no problem accepting any of the things in his way. This did not surprise Wirt as much as it should. This whole Ruins area looked like it was something Greg had dreamed up.

This was all Greg's stupid dream, Wirt decided, and he just had to get him through it.

"Come on Wirt!" said Greg. "They're not too bad once you get to know them!"

The frog gave a croak in agreement.

"Greg, you just got out of a fight with a carrot!" said Wirt.

"Vegetoid was nice," said Greg. "I don't know what he wants me to do with all these vegetables though."

The frog croaked again. This time Wirt wasn't sure what it meant.

"It's still a carrot," said Wirt. "A-and a monster! You shouldn't be anywhere near those things."

"Okay. Why don't you try then?"

Before Wirt could figure out what Greg meant with that, he found himself being pushed ahead. A Froggit blocked the way.

Wirt tensed up as the battle began and his Soul left his chest. The Froggit unleashed a few bullets that flew around like flies, but otherwise seemed uninterested.

"Pst," said Greg in a way that was not actually meant to be quiet. "Trying complimenting her!"

It was worth a shot, Wirt decided.

"Listen," said Wirt. "You look like a frog of decent logic, and we are but two lost souls in the Underground. Would you consider letting us pass?"

The Froggit seemed to think for moment. Wirt was pretty sure it was because it had no idea what he had said. It hopped away, leaving behind two coins.

"Uh, excuse me, you forgot your—" Wirt started. Greg stepped in and grabbed the coins before he could finish.

"Greg, those aren't ours," Said Wirt.

"Sure they are!" said Greg. "It's just like in a video game when you defeat an enemy!"

"Greg, this isn't a game!"

"Why can't it be?"

"Because it's dangerous down here," said Wirt.

"All the more reason to think of it like a video game!" said Greg. "Now come on, I think I've saved up for the Spider Cider."

It took the Woodsman a while to figure out Frisk was just a lost kid in the woods. It took him even longer to realize they could not talk to him. It was easy to tell when he did. His tone grew softer, yet it was still full of worry. He asked if they knew where they were going, and when they answered no, offered them a place to stay at his house.

Well, it was not his house. It was the house that he used when he needed a roof over his head while he worked. Before him, the house had not been touched in a long time. Yet it was nice to be in a house Frisk did not recognize, so they ignored the smell of must and feathers.

"You may stay here for the night if you wish," the Woodsman said. "But beware if you leave in the night. There is a Beast that lurks in these woods. Ever singing his mournful melody in search of lost souls such as yourself."

Frisk wasn't very good with words, but they knew what Beast meant. It was something like a monster…a monster! Was there a Monster out here? Could they know how to get back to the Underground?

"I've work to attend to in the mill," the Woodsman said. "Do what you wish. You may find me in there."

He threw another log on the fire for them, grabbed his lantern and left.

The frog did not have a name. Most frogs don't, naturally. Names are things given to distinguish between humans. Frogs, especially frogs on the Surface, did not need them.

This frog, on the other hand, was no longer on the Surface. Yet he was still not given a name. Greg had yet to decide on one, and the frog was not in any hurry to have one.

He was quite curious about where he had ended up, however, so while the two brothers negotiated for baked goods at the spider bake sale, the frog decided to explore some more.

There were frogs in the Underground. Not real frogs; frogs of flesh and blood and grew from tadpoles. It was frog that was held together with magic.

"Hello traveler," said the Froggit. Or, rather, the thing that lived under the Froggit.

The frog croaked a greeting.

"I do not wish to fight you," said the Froggit. "Nor do I think any of the creatures in the Ruins anymore. You and your humans have been quite kind. However, I wish to ask you a question.

"Before you there was another human in the Underground. They were the first in a long time. They were usually quite kind to us, but something changed the last time they were here. I do not think they were quite themselves. I am not sure if they were safe. Have you any idea where they might have gone?"

The frog did not, and told him as much.

"I see," said the Froggit. "Thank you. And if I may impart some advice, traveler of the Surface, be cautious of the old queen. She has lost a lot, and she is not always aware that she hurts because she is hurting."

"Kitty!" Greg called. "Kitty! Now where is that frog named Kitty?"

The frog croaked to grab his attention.

"Oh there you are Kitty!"

Greg ran up and scooped the frog into his kettle.

"Hiya Froggit!" said Greg. "You're looking fantastic today!"

The Froggit did not understand what he said, but blushed anyway. They dropped a little more gold than most Froggits do when they left.

Frisk spent the night. They left early in the morning, as the sun was beginning to rise. They did not see the Woodsman again.

They wondered if he ever left the mill after that, if he ever got sleep or if he went back out into the forest. They would have to find a way to thank him later. But most people, they realized, would come back when they needed them.

They stopped thinking as they heard something move in the woods. It was too big to be the bluebird, or even the Cat from the Otherworld. They braced themselves.

The fight started.

The thing that emerged was not a monster, or at least a monster they could recognize. It walked on all fours and towered above Frisk. It looked like a dog, but the way its fur stood up from all sides made the shape hard to distinguish. And its eyes…

The creature attacked first, lunging towards Frisk. They dodged. Their turn opened up, but all Frisk could think to do was compliment their eyes.

The creature was not flattered. It lunged again, swiping at Frisk. They dodged and jumped back. They tumbled in the creek.

The creek was not deep in the slightest. It did not hurt them too much to tumble into it, nor did it take them very long to pull themselves back up. But in the process, they had fled the fight.

Something else was fighting the creature. Something small and black that crawled over the creature and forced it back into the creek with them.

The creatures tumbled into the creek. A black turtle emerged, followed by a normal-looking dog.

Next out the creek came the Cat. He leaped out of the water in a blur of black. He shook himself dry the same way the dog did, and started to lick the rest of himself clean.

"There are few creatures I like," said the Cat. "But dogs have a special place in hell reserved for them."

The dog noticed Frisk for the first time and rushed over. This time, its intentions were far more friendly. Frisk gave it a few decisive pats before it disappeared into the woods once again.

The Cat didn't speak up until the dog was out of sight. Frisk watched him carefully.

"There are few creatures I like, but perhaps I was too quick to judge you," said the Cat. "This world is…new, to me. Perhaps I would be willing to walk part of the way with you."

He avoided making eye contact with Frisk. However, when Frisk extended a hand, he leaned into it and let himself get pat.

Wirt had not really meant to get into Toriel's bedroom. He was looking for a way out. He had tried to find a way outside of the house, but the Ruins ended with Toriel's house.

He wondered if that was deliberate.

Toriel's room was ordinary. It was incredibly well kept, thought that did not surprise Wirt. It had been decorated with bookshelves and typhae, but it all looked so old and out of place that it was hard to believe Toriel put it in.

Wirt looked through everything. Through the sock drawer, the pots of plants, under the mattress. And he felt bad about it but what else was he supposed to do?

His eyes fell onto the diary on her desk. It was thick and full, but it was already turned today's date. Something on the page had been circled in bright red ink.

Wirt swallowed as he leaned in closer to read it.

Why did the skeleton need a friend? Because she was feeling bone-ly!

"You know, perhaps I overestimated her abilities." said Wirt to nobody.

Greg's calls shook him out of his thoughts. The younger brother rushed into the room, the frog trailing behind him.

"Toriel's gone!" Greg exclaimed.

"Gone?" said Wirt. "What do you mean, gone?"

"Well, she was sitting in Chariel and I asked her—"

"What, the chair? Why did you name her armchair and not your frog?"

"I didn't name it!" said Greg. "But I asked her how do we leave the Ruins and she got up and said she had something to do but she's been gone for five minutes now and I really wanted some of the butts pie!"

Toriel would know how to leave the Ruins. Why would she get so defensive the second Greg asked?

"Come on, we need to go find her."