-O-

Taming Branch

By Dreamsinger

Chapter 11

The Brush of Her Touch

When Poppy got home she discussed the day's events with her father. "Do you have any ideas for ways to help Branch get past his fear of hugging?"

"I'll give it some thought." Peppy rubbed his chin and stroked his voluminous mustache as he mused aloud. "Hugging is one way we trolls make connections to others, right?"

"Right."

"And Branch has always had trouble connecting to other trolls. He's never been very social, not since his grandma was taken, anyway." He sighed heavily. "He's always avoided the company of other trolls. We tried everything, but the things that were normally helpful to cheer a troll up when they were troubled just didn't work with Branch. He didn't like hugs, or singing, or dancing. He hated parties. He didn't even like glitter. I tried asking the other trolls to play with him, but sooner or later he'd get annoyed or bored and take off. Often after saying something hurtful and upsetting others."

"I remember that. My friends always wondered how I could even like someone like that. But they never saw how kind he could be," she said softly, her voice husky with feeling. "The Branch I was friends with was thoughtful, sweet and supportive. He still is."

"Because he let you in. For whatever reason, Branch wants to connect with you." Her father smiled proudly at her. "You've made more progress than anyone else ever has, Poppy. It's remarkable. He's responding to you in a way I've never seen before."

"Do you really think so?"

"Of course, my dear," he said kindly. "He's never been willing to talk about his feelings. He's never seemed to want the company of any troll, so the fact that he's openly calling you his friend now is tremendously encouraging."

"Thanks, Dad." She smiled sadly. "I just don't know what else I can do for him."

"Why not look to your fellow trolls for inspiration? Branch has acknowledged that he wants to be friends with you, right?"

She nodded.

"Well, who knows more about being friends than us trolls?"

A huge smile spread over her face. "Yeah. That's a great idea, Dad. Thank you."

She went to her father and he opened his arms and enveloped her in a warm, comforting hug. "Just hang in there, Poppy. You've hit a turning point. It'll get better from now on; I can just feel it."

When she went to bed that night, all she could think about was Branch. Is he still upset? Wide awake, she stared up at the pale-pink hair-dome of her pod, dimly backlit by the moon. She wondered if he was awake too, and if he was about to go through another long night tormented by bad dreams. She hoped not. He got a lot of stuff off his chest today. That's bound to make him feel better, won't it? We had a good time after that, and he seemed to be in a good mood when I left. That made her feel better.

I'm sure he'll be fine. She yawned sleepily and rolled over, wrapping her arms around her favorite cuddle toy. Her sleepy mind began to wander to an image of Branch, contentedly asleep in his…bed? Does he even sleep in a bed? I've never seen his pod, if he has one, she thought drowsily. Maybe he lives inside a tree like a bird, or in a den maybe, with a cozy, fluff-lined nest like a little foxfluff or something…

-O-

Branch woke slowly, feeling rested and secure. He yawned and stretched in bed, enjoying the way his body felt so loose and relaxed, especially after yesterday.

Yesterday had been another bad day that turned out good because of Poppy. He'd spent all day stomping around his bunker, grumbling and kicking at things in his way until it was time to go out and meet her. Of course she'd picked up on his mood, but unlike most of the other trolls who used to take one look at his surly face and scurry away, she'd braved his bad mood and made him talk about it.

It turned out he wasn't angry so much as he was scared. After so many years of isolation Branch had gotten used to letting the rest of the world slide off his self-imposed shield, his mind, body and heart untouched by every encounter. Now it felt like the world was slipping out of his control.

Letting someone else in meant truly opening himself up. Letting go; being vulnerable. It scared him. It went against every instinct he had. What if he showed his true colors and Poppy decided she didn't like him after all? What if she stopping coming to see him and he was alone forever?

Letting someone close to him also meant trusting their judgement, something he'd never been very good at while he lived in the village. It was almost impossible to imagine doing it now. But as long as it's Poppy… So far, even though she still wasn't as cautious as he would prefer, neither of them had come to harm when she did things he normally didn't do. That encouraged him to trust her.

And she did pick up on things he missed, especially when it came to feelings and stuff. Every time they talked about what was going on inside him he came away feeling as if he understood himself better, and he liked that.

It's kind of nice, having someone care about my feelings, and what I think. It's worth letting her in, at least for now, he decided. It's worth humoring her about this whole touching-me thing. Besides, if I really don't like it, I can tell her to stop, and she will. She'll even leave me alone if I ask her to. She said so. It's still my choice, so that's okay.

Branch got up and began to peacefully go about his daily chores, wondering now and then about what his pretty pink friend had planned for the day.

-O-

What should I do with Branch today?

Poppy was a troll with a mission. She sped through her daily routine, to the bewilderment of her friends, all the while watching her fellow trolls. She paid careful attention to the little things they did to bond with one another.

By early afternoon the sunny sky had clouded over, but even the threat of rain didn't deter the enthusiastic princess. As she'd promised, she managed to finish early, picked up some treats for her favorite little foxfluff and headed out. She threw herself into the trip, equally concerned and elated at the thought of seeing her friend again.

When she got there, Branch was in the meadow picking up loose sticks, something she suspected he did less for fuel and more to keep the meadow looking neat and tidy. She was glad to see him. Unpredictable as he was, part of her had been afraid he'd change his mind and avoid her again. As soon as she was within hearing distance she called breathlessly, "Hi Branch how are you?"

The gray troll yelped and leaped into the air, dropping the sticks he was carrying all over the grass. His hair shot out into dark spikes in every direction, then retracted as he recognized her. "Poppy? You're early. Is everything okay?"

"Of course. I said I'd come early, remember?"

"Oh, right…" He seemed confused, then looked around and started collecting the scattered sticks.

Looping the treat basket over her arm, Poppy helped him. "Why were you so surprised to see me? Did you forget I promised to come early?" That was hard to believe. Branch was incredibly (frustratingly) detail-oriented.

"Well, no, but…" He trailed off, waving a hand to the side. It was obvious what he'd thought.

She felt a little hurt at that. Here she was, doing everything she could to help him, and he still didn't trust her? "I don't break promises, Branch," she said quietly, but firmly.

He looked down, a little shamefaced. "Sorry. It's not about promises; it's just, I know how busy you are. You don't have a lot of free time. I get that. And… Never mind."

"And what?"

"Well… You're the princess. Lots of trolls need your attention. Plus, you have duties you need to take care of every day, just like me. I understand." He shrugged. "Besides, I don't even live in the village. I'm not as important."

His tone was calm and matter-of-fact, but a sharp pang went through her chest at his self-dismissive words. "Branch, don't ever say that. You are important. You have no idea how important you are to me."

He picked up the last stick and stood up, tucking the bundle under his arm. As he headed toward the trap door that concealed his bolt-hole, Poppy wondered what he was thinking. Maybe he didn't believe her. Or maybe he was irritated that she'd come early and thrown off his work schedule. She'd never come at this hour before.

Then he said, "Thanks, Poppy," over his shoulder, and gave her his usual little half-smile of welcome, as if it had just occurred to him that he ought to respond to her in some way.

As she stared after him, trying to make sense of his odd greeting, it occurred to Poppy that maybe it wasn't personal. He didn't seem upset with her or anything; just distracted.

She had a flash of insight. Maybe he'd just been really focused on his work, rather than on his feelings – or hers - and it took him a while to shift gears. Yesterday he said something about not needing feelings when I'm not around, so maybe they sort of go to sleep when I leave, and then it takes a minute for them to wake up after I get here.

She decided not to press the issue. "I was worried about you, but you look good today. Did you sleep well?"

He nodded. "Yes, a lot better than the night before." Her concern seemed to help him open up, as she could see him relaxing in her presence. He opened the trap door and leaped inside, setting the sticks in a neat stack against one wall. Poppy jumped down after him and added her sticks to the pile. "Thank you," he said, and then added, "I felt better after we talked yesterday."

"That's great!" she said warmly, then gave him a sly grin. "Do you remember what else I promised yesterday?"

His face lit up. She offered him the treat basket, chuckling as he eagerly sank his teeth into a sugary snickerdoodle, chewing with obvious pleasure. It was a good thing he had just as much of a sweet tooth as any other troll. Winning his confidence would have been a lot harder if he hadn't.

While he was enjoying his snack, she gave him the rest of her news. "So today I went around the village looking for ways we could try touching each other without triggering your bad memories."

He froze in the middle of a bite, staring at her over the large, cinnamon-flecked cookie. She laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not talking about hugs. I'll show you when you finish your snack."

He quickly finished his cookie and left the rest in the basket. Poppy leaped up out of the bolt-hole and he followed her, closing the trap door behind them. Then he turned to face her with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

"I thought we'd work up to hugging by taking small steps, like Milton suggested. Remember?" Poppy said, and he nodded. "So the first thing we ought to do is try different ways of making contact to figure out which kinds of touching don't bother you. For example, we know you don't like hugging, but you don't seem to mind so much if our hands touch. Or our hair."

"True," he said thoughtfully.

Her logical approach seemed to appeal to him. Poppy knew that like many trolls, setting goals and creating a basic framework of some kind would make him feel more secure. "So I thought we'd do a series of exercises involving one kind of touch or another. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, and you can always tell me to stop any time. Okay?"

He considered, then shrugged. "Okay."

"Good. Then why don't we go up there?" She pointed to the top of the biggest mushroom in the meadow, thinking that he might want to be somewhere he could easily see his surroundings. Plus, the soft surface would be more comfortable.

Looking a little uncertain now, Branch followed her. "What next?" he asked her.

"I don't want you to feel overwhelmed," she explained. "I want this to be fun for you. So for today, I thought we might try…this." With a dramatic flair, she reached into her hair and pulled out an artist's paintbrush made with about two inches of fluffy blue hair. "I borrowed this from Harper."

"What are you gonna do with that? Poke me? Paint my face?" He took a wary step backward. "Tickle me?"

Poppy bounced playfully on the soft surface. "Ooo, sounds like fun! But no. Not yet, anyway. I promise. For today I thought we'd just use this paintbrush to test how sensitive you are to being touched. Don't worry; I washed it."

His ears twitched. "Are you sure about this?"

She grinned at him. "Absolutely." She gestured toward the grass with the paintbrush. "Okay, I want you to lie down and close your eyes. I promise I won't touch you with anything but this. You'll like it; you'll see."

"I have to lie down?" He looked at her, their surroundings, and then the paintbrush. "Poppy, this is silly."

"There's nothing to be scared of. It won't hurt."

Branch looked insulted. "I'm not scared. I know it won't hurt. It's just a piece of fluff."

"Then you have no reason to say 'no', do you?"

He let out an exasperated growl, sounding just like she remembered from when she was little, talking him into doing stuff with her. She wondered if he was remembering those times, too. Eventually he grumbled, "Fine," lay down on the mushroom on his back with a big frown on his face and crossed his arms. "Five minutes, and not a second more."

"Close your eyes."

"No way. Lying down is bad enough; I'm not blinding myself, too. What if a bird comes?"

Now Poppy frowned too; something that was happening more often the longer she was around Branch. It made her worry about developing frown lines. She didn't want to end up looking like him. He was supposed to be learning how to be happy from her.

Then she saw his eyes rapidly scanning the gray-white sky and realized he really was nervous. Maybe he felt too exposed up here. Or maybe this wasn't about predatory birds at all. Either way, she opted to be obliging. "Well, if you're worried about birds, then why don't we move down to the ground below the mushroom instead? It won't be as comfortable, but we'll be out of sight, for the most part."

He considered, then sat up. "Okay."

Showing that she was willing to accommodate his needs was the right choice. Once her gray friend had merged with the deep shadow below the giant mushroom cap she could see him relax somewhat, his expression going from cranky to tolerant. In fact, once her eyes adjusted to the dim environment, she was pleased to see an open, honestly curious look on his face. "Now what?"

"Just lie down and relax. I'm just going to run this brush over your skin, and you tell me if anything bothers you, okay?"

"Okay. Do I have to close my eyes, though?"

"Not if you don't want to."

Branch nodded and lay down on his back, but this time let his arms rest on the ground beside his body. Poppy knelt next to him and reached out to touch his leg with the paintbrush. He didn't move. "Branch, you okay?" she asked just to check in with him.

He gave her a bored look, which she decided to take as a good sign. He wasn't scared, at any rate.

The pink troll lightly pressed the paintbrush to his sturdy thigh, and then slowly, carefully moved it down his leg toward his foot. As it passed his knee Branch began to twitch, and she saw a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

-O-

Branch watched her face brighten and couldn't help smiling up at her. Yet another time-wasting activity, but at least she's not trying to make me hug her. Oh, well. I guess I can put up with it for five minutes if it makes her happy.

He lay there gazing up at her signature upstanding ponytail silhouetted against the dark gray sky and noticed that it had begun to rain. Good. Less chance that a predator will make an appearance. Since the two of them were already under cover, he didn't bother to suggest they move to his bolt-hole, where they usually spent rainy days. Now if she-

"Whoa! That tickles!" With an involuntary laugh, he yanked his leg away.

Poppy laughed. "Your ankles are ticklish? Really?"

"…Yeah," he admitted. "Why? Is that weird?"

"No, just cute."

He turned his face to the side. Poppy saw lavender brighten his cheeks even in the semi-darkness and her smile widened with affection for her little foxfluff. She was strongly tempted to go after his ankles with the paintbrush, or even her hair, but she'd promised not to. At least for today, she thought mischievously. Hm. If his ankles are ticklish, the soles of his feet probably are, too. "Okay then, how about I skip your ankles and just do the tops of your feet?"

Recognizing his boundaries and letting him know she was keeping her promise about not tickling him was the right thing to do. Branch took a moment to glance outside for danger, something she suspected he did either because he was still blushing a little, or maybe just as one of his many nervous habits. "Okay."

Cheerfully Poppy swept the brush over his feet a few times, avoiding the soles. He wiggled his toes, which Poppy found adorable, but he didn't object again. Then she moved on to his arms, lightly drawing the brush over his hand and then up his arm toward his shoulder. He didn't pull away, but he did twitch a little, and his ears flicked.

"You okay?"

"Still tickles a little."

She giggled. "Sorry. Here, how's this?" She began to briskly flick the brush back and forth over his arm.

"Um. A little slower," he said.

Poppy was happy that he seemed to be getting into the game. She thought to test the brush on her own arm, getting a feel for the right way to stroke it over his skin and have it feel good to him. This time when she touched him with it, he nodded. "Better."

Poppy began to enjoy herself, swirling the paintbrush in zigzags, spirals and curlicues all over his arms and legs. "Here I am, frosting my big ol' Branch-shaped cupcake. Oh, my Branchy-cake, Brancake, Branchkin-boo," she chanted in a silly voice. "What flavor cupcake?" This close to him she could smell the same sugar-spice scent that had been on his leaf-vest when she repaired it. "Why, apple cinnamon, of course."

Branch rolled his eyes and then chuckled. "Poppy, that's so weird."

He laughed! He likes this!

-O-

Branch linked his fingers and put them behind his head, then crossed one ankle over the other. This isn't so bad.

As the pretty princess continued her little game, his mind began to slow. The white noise from the rain made the world seem hushed and close, as it did when he was in his bunker and the rest of the world was far away. Unnoticed, his thoughts began to drift, idle speculations passing through his mind.

…Wonder what Poppy will want to do next… Probably a board game or something. If it weren't raining I'd take her to see the new flowers I planted. Poppies, like her. She'd like that…

…Or I could show her – no, wait. I'd have to take her inside my bunker for that. I'd have to trust her with my biggest secret.

For the first time, he found himself actually considering it. What would she think of my bunker? I've never let anybody know where I lived. When I first met Poppy again after all these years, I suspected she was after my resources, that she might be a spy…

…Of course, so far she's only seen my original bolt-hole, the first part of the bunker I ever built. I keep a few emergency supplies there, but not enough to be worth stealing. Poppy doesn't know there's a huge bunker complex right below that level. She doesn't know I have over eight years' worth of supplies. I've been careful not to tell her anything…

…Actually, I did mention my stockpile of chocolate when we first met, I think… But all that tells her is that I like chocolate. So do most trolls, so that's not a secret or anything….

…I suppose she could still be a spy, even so, he mused. I haven't actually seen the village since the day I left, eight years ago. All I know is what she tells me. Anything could have happened to them. The bergens might have already attacked…

A chill passed through him and he shivered.

"Sorry," Poppy said immediately, lifting her brush away from his inner elbow. "You okay, Branch?"

He glanced up at the contrite expression on her face and felt his own face soften into a smile. "Sure. You can keep going."

He let his attention shift to the sweep of the brush over his skin. It felt soft and gentle and affectionate somehow, as if he could sense the intention of the pretty troll holding it. In the face of her concern, his doubts seemed silly.

Poppy's my friend. She doesn't want to hurt me. Besides, I heard the trolls singing Trolls Just Wanna Have Fun, that time Poppy caught me humming along before I could stop myself. I don't sing, but that song is ridiculously catchy. No wonder it's always been Poppy's favorite song. No, the trolls are still there, as happy and noisy as ever. Including their princess. He smiled to himself. Annoying as they are, I'm glad they're still safe.

I'm glad she's safe.

-O-

Eventually Poppy brought the brush over his chest, pressing down into the narrow space between the sides of his vest to draw fanciful hearts on his fuzzy gray skin. As she got closer to his belly she caught the slight hitch in his breathing, and looked up to see her friend suppressing a laugh. She grinned down at him, then turned her attention back to her delightful task, moving up to his head. As she slid her brush slowly over his forehead, his eyes tracked the movement. When she went the other way, back over his nose, his eyes crossed as they tried to follow. Poppy giggled at how funny it made him look, then remembered to ask, "How are you doing? Is this okay?"

Branch made a sound of assent, but was otherwise quiescent. She leaned closer to check his face and saw that his eyes were half-closed, unfocused. Almost mellow. Wow, he's really getting into this. Good for you, Branch. If any troll needs to feel safe and cared for, it's you.

Thoroughly enjoying herself now, she leaned over him, using the tip of the brush to delicately trace the contours of his face. It was her first opportunity to study his face up close, and so she did, noting the ways he was unique compared to all the other trolls she knew. She knew he was not much older than she was, yet he had so many lines - stress lines, worry lines, anger lines. Lines of fear, and grief. His face was a reflection of all the worst possible emotions to feel in life, and the pink troll's big heart hurt for her friend. If only there was something I could do to smooth them out and take all his cares away.

But then, he wouldn't be the Branch she loved if that suddenly happened. No, it was better this way, helping him grow and heal a little at a time. If she'd learned anything by now, it was that trying to rush him would only backfire and cause even more delay in his progress. Small steps, Poppy.

For today, it was enough to show him that there was no harm in relaxing once in a while. The more he relaxed, the more the marks of unhappiness would fade until only healthy laugh lines remained. I'll help you, Branch. Whatever it takes, I'll help you heal. I promise.

The rain grew heavier, but neither troll cared. They were in a world of their own.

At some point Poppy found herself absent-mindedly humming as she dabbed lightly at his cheeks, counting the dark little freckles she found there. She stopped immediately, realizing both what she was doing and that Branch had not objected. To her touch, or her music. Still, in keeping with her promise not to sing, she apologized. "Oops. Sorry, Branch."

There was a pause, as if it took him a moment to process her words. Then he said, "That's okay." After another pause, he added, "I don't mind if you hum."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"As long as you're quiet. The rain covers the sound. Also, predators mostly don't hunt in the rain." He yawned. "Besides, thanks to my traps the meadow is fairly secure. Even if a predator comes, we should be able to get to my bolt-hole in time."

Poppy concentrated on saying casually, "Okay, then. Sounds good," even though inside she was almost ready to burst. Oh my gosh he's letting me hum! That's practically singing! Her brain rushed dizzily ahead. Once he gets used to having music in his life his trolly instincts will take over and he'll be singing in no time! The world will open up for him. He'll finally have a way to express himself and let out all those bad feelings and make way for happy ones instead!

Thanks to years of singing practice she was able to hide her inner glee and continue to hum softly to her friend, choosing the most soothing lullabies she could think of as she drew the brush softly over his face. She didn't bring up his earlier concern about predatory birds. She was pretty sure that wasn't the main thing he'd been scared of. But he managed to face his fear and now look at him, lying there looking so calm and laidback. I'm so proud of him.

Up until now she'd been careful to avoid his eyes, but then it happened. As she lifted the brush, contemplating where else to paint pretend patterns on his skin, he actually closed his eyes and turned his face toward her. He even tilted his face up a little, wordlessly asking for her touch.

Her heart gave a thomp, and it was all she could do to keep from letting out an ear-splitting squeal. After couple of deep breaths she managed get control of herself, humming softly to her little foxfluff.

Wielding the paintbrush with utmost delicacy she drew the tip gently over his eyes. At her touch, Branch took a deep, deep breath and let it out, his body seeming to settle as he relaxed every muscle. Wow, look at him. Gosh, if he got this relaxed just from being stroked by a paintbrush, what would a massage do for him?

She was tempted to ask him, but in the end she kept doing what had worked so far. She hadn't gotten his permission to touch his skin directly, after all, and he was enjoying himself too much right now for her to want to ruin it by changing the game. She added the idea to her mental list to ask him about later.

Remember, Poppy. Small steps, she told herself with a big grin. Today is a huge success. Dad and Milton are gonna be so happy.

Poppy continued to hum and run the brush tenderly over her friend's placid face. Occasionally she traced it down his chest or along an arm or leg, just to keep it interesting. He usually started when she did so, sometimes opening his eyes for a few seconds to sweep them across the rainy sky before settling down again. Even now he couldn't relax completely, it seemed. She tried one of his ears once, but he kept twitching it away, making her decide it must be just as ticklish as his feet.

Speaking of interesting... Poppy noticed that the more his face relaxed, the more the frowny-lines on his face began to smooth out, almost as if she were painting in reverse. Removing detail instead of adding. The lines between his eyes disappeared entirely, and his lips and jaw eased into a more natural, trolly-round shape instead of being drawn grimly inward. It was fascinating to watch. Soon only the gently curving lines running from the corners of his eyes remained.

Just then she happened to accidentally move the brush into his hair, and for the first time in a while he made a sound, a light gasp. Immediately she pulled the brush away, wondering if she'd somehow hurt him. "Branch?" she said softly. "You okay?"

"Yeah…" he said lazily, but didn't open his eyes. After waiting a moment to see if he would say anything else, she moved to run the brush along his dark eyebrows. Some trolls had thick, unruly eyebrows like Creek's, but Branch's eyebrows were smooth, curved arches. Strong and masculine-looking, but neat and handsome, like Branch himself.

Handsome? She blinked at the thought, gazing down at the peaceful expression on the quiescent troll, then nodded to herself. Well, he is. When he's not frowning, that is.

Without realizing it, her hand began to glide the brush across his face for an entirely different reason. The troll before her was young and strong and caring, in his own way, and his face reflected that. She liked his eyebrows, his wide, well-formed nose, and his broad cheeks. She even liked the lines at the corners of his eyes, which were fairly common - most male trolls got them at some point, like her dad. Not that Branch looked anything like her dad, aside from the fact that both of them had similar ears; widespread and free like a butterfly's wings.

Branch's coloring was unusual, too. Most trolls had bold, highly saturated colors. They could never hide in plain sight in a shadow the way Branch could. He'd be great at hide-and-seek. One more thing to add to her activity list.

Of course his true colors weren't really gray and black, she was sure. Poppy leaned even closer to see in the dim light, noting that his soft, fuzzy skin was definitely a warm greenish-blue-gray. His colors were still in there somewhere, and just like his smile and his laugh, all he needed was someone to help him find them.

She moved on to gaze at his cheeks, running the brush across the light dusting of lavender there that match the deeper lavender-gray of his nose. His tiny dark freckles made an interesting change from the glitter-freckles everyone else had to a greater or lesser degree. Hm. Does Branch even have glitter freckles?

She tried to imagine him with sparkly cheeks, then used the paintbrush to whimsically tap his face as if she could just paint them on. "Doot doot de doot…"

His mouth curved, changing the shape of his cheeks and messing up her game, but seeing his wide smile was worth it. Something caught her eye and she leaned close again to inspect his skin closely. Maybe I'm fooling myself, but I'm almost sure I saw a faint sparkle just now…

Just then Branch opened his eyes to look straight at her. Poppy blinked, then smiled, admiring the way his beautiful blue eyes were free of pain or tension for once. As they stared at one another, his expression softened. Poppy relaxed too, enjoying this peaceful moment with him. Appreciating the closeness, the intimacy. It was nice here, just the two of them. No one would bother them. Without realizing it her gaze drifted down his face, past his nose…

Suddenly she leaned forward to nudge his nose with hers. "Boop."

He chuckled quietly as he sat up and put a hand over his nose, his expression content.

"How do you feel?" she asked him. "Did that bother you at all? Was it, well, 'disturbing'?"

He seemed to look inward while she waited, trying to ignore the twinge of worry. I hope this exercise was different enough not to trigger any bad memories. She still had a hard time believing that any troll could even dislike hugs, let alone find them genuinely disturbing. Branch had the strangest reactions to things sometimes.

Finally Branch shrugged. "I guess not. I still think it's kind of silly, but no, it didn't bother me."

Sitting there looking at him, Poppy felt a sudden impulse to roll over onto her back and say gleefully, "My turn!"

She almost did, but at the last second she suddenly recognized that she was doing it again. She was "pushing" him, trying to make him change faster than he was able to. Small steps, Poppy. Small steps. Just like the first time he hugged you, let him come to you.

Instead she praised him. "You did great today."

The look on his face was her reward, as he blushed and looked away, then turned back to give her a sincere smile. "Thank you. It was…nice."

Poppy offered to play chess with him and he accepted. Thirty-five minutes later when her Hug Time watch went off, Branch looked startled. He glanced up at the sky, but the rain made the sky too dark to make out the sun's position. "Poppy, is your watch broken? It can't be Hug Time already."

She nodded, suppressing the automatic urge to wrap her arms around him. "It's Hug Time. I can feel it."

"But that means you were using the paintbrush on me for, what, twenty-five minutes? It felt like ten."

"Now you know why we trolls say 'time flies when you're having fun'," she said cheerfully. She didn't point out that the old Branch had never had fun, not like he did these days.

His eyes widened. "Whoa. So that's what they mean…"

Poppy giggled, and the game continued.

-O-

Later, as Poppy related the day's event to her father and Milton, she somehow neglected to mention a small, unimportant detail. The sight of his lips, very interesting somehow and very close to hers…

Author's Note:

Well, that got surprisingly intimate, more than innocent little Poppy was expecting. Although she didn't seem too bothered by the idea to get to study Branch's handsome face up close, did she? 😉

I was thinking about how personal grooming rituals like massages and doing one another's hair are trust-building activities, (even among us humans). They relax both the recipient and the giver, something Branch deeply needs. They also stir a desire to reciprocate, which fosters a sense of family and community. Another thing our favorite little foxfluff needs so very much. And he already has someone willing to be that close to him…