-O-

Taming Branch

By Dreamsinger

Chapter Twelve

Power Imbalance

Her father was delighted to hear of her success, and so was Milton. "It sounds as if he's really touch-deprived, to respond so strongly to just a paintbrush," the critternarian said thoughtfully. "You can build on that."

"Right," she said eagerly. "I've got lots of ideas."

-O-

Over the next couple of weeks, Poppy continued to try new activities with Branch, incorporating touch into as many of them as possible. Some ideas worked better than others. The forest troll seemed amused by her idea of using sock-puppets to make their hands hug one another's, yet he thought Poppy hugging his hair was awkward and weird. Scrapbooking with soft fuzzballs and other textured things didn't go so well either. Branch complained that it was boring and that the fuzzballs kept the pages from closing properly.

She didn't get to touch him every day. Once he reluctantly agreed to let her try tickling him with a big, fluffy feather, but after thirty seconds of tortured giggling he shouted at her to stop, flipped himself to his feet, and fled.

Disappointed, Poppy stared after him, the feather in her hand drooping on the ground. Branch ran about fifty feet from her before she saw him throw a glance over his shoulder, then abruptly stop. He turned around, looked at the feather in her hand, then back up to meet her eyes. A corner of his mouth quirked, and he took a single step back.

There was no mistaking the challenge in his eyes. He wanted her to chase him!

The young princess broke out in a big grin and dashed after him. He let out a whoop and started running, and the game was on. Poppy chased after him, waving the feather in the air and laughingly threatening him with the tickling of his life, but she wasn't serious, and he knew it. Every time she got close she took great care to let him "escape" at the last second. Soon he was laughing as much as she was – without needing the touch of the feather at all.

Besides chasing games, a few times she'd hit on an activity he really liked, like the game of Uber Patty-cake that took on a life of its own. Recalling a father and child she'd seen while studying the other trolls in the village, she'd asked Branch to sit down so they could press their feet together. Other than raising an eyebrow, Branch didn't seem to have a problem with that, so she'd suggested they play patty-cake; first with their hands, then feet, then hands and feet at the same time. They started using their hair, too. Then somehow they ended up upside down, moving around on their hair while rapidly patting their hands and feet together in a silly, complicated almost-dance. Branch seemed to really enjoy that particular challenge. He even laughed a few times.

The harder the task, the more he gets into it, she thought that evening as she added the day's events to her Forest Troll and Me scrapbook. It occurred to her that Branch, like most trolls, forgot to be anxious when he was concentrating hard on something. So I just need to come up with things to do that need his full attention – the more challenging the better.

She looked at the felted trolls on the page. Their upside-down smiles looked like frowny-faces, but still managed to convey the fun they'd both had. You know, I get the feeling that deep down Branch is super bored with his life. He needs to grow. I think he's even beginning to realize that he wants to grow. Spending time with me gives him the chance to really stretch his mind, even if there are a few growing pains along the way.

A few activities seemed to make Branch bored or uncomfortable, but from what she could tell, things were going great. So great, in fact, that when she encountered the next speedbump in his progress she tried to let the momentum carry things forward. Big mistake.

One day Poppy brought a big pile of clothing to Branch's meadow. She'd been looking forward to doing a fun photo shoot with her grumpy friend for a long time now. To her surprise, he immediately vetoed the idea.

"No photo shoot," he said dismissively, as he shook his head and frowned at her.

"Aw, but you haven't even looked at this stuff! This flopper hopper costume is so cute! Or this bellow bug costume. Or-"

"No, Poppy. Just no."

"But…" She looked down at the pile of bright cloth spread on the low mushroom in front of them. He couldn't possibly be scared of clothes, could he? She tried again. "How about just this apron? Look, it even says, 'Hug the Cook'."

"I," Branch crossed his arms, "will never wear that. Ever."

"Oh, come on, Branch. Just for a minute, so I can take your picture. Please? I want to put it in my scrapbook so I can see you when I'm not here."

He didn't answer, but his stern expression softened. Poppy sensed that he was on the verge of giving in. She began to walk toward him, holding out the frilly peach-colored apron. "Come on, my cute little foxfluff…"

At that, he scowled even more fiercely and backed away from her. "No! Why do we always have to do what you want to do?" He let out a quick huff of air. "Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?"

"Frustrating? What do you mean, frustrating?" she said in surprise. In her opinion, Branch was the one who was frustrating. He could be so hard to get along with, always complaining about stuff that no other troll ever did.

Like now, when he crossed his arms and griped, "I always have to go along with whatever you want. You have all the power here."

I what? Power? Her mouth dropped open as her brain scrambled to keep up with the sudden shift in topic. "That's not true, Branch. You-"

"You're the princess, Poppy!" he shouted at her. "Of course you have all the power."

He looked so outraged that she was struck silent. He had a point. And yet-

She tried to ask him what this was all about, but Branch was in full rant-mode now. "You're so pushy, Poppy. You're so used to everybody going along with whatever you want, you just take it for granted that everybody else likes what you like. So even when someone doesn't, there's so much pressure to just give in, and keep your mouth shut. It's… It's unbearable!"

"Unbearable?"Poppy was stunned. I…I thought he was enjoying himself. Has he been going along with all these exercises while secretly being miserable about them? And what about the others? Do the other trolls feel like that, too? How would I know if they did?

Was Branch right? Was she so used to everyone going along with her that she genuinely didn't accept that someone else could want something she didn't expect? That someone else might actually be unhappy with one of her decisions?

Her belly clenched, and her face stiffened, the corners of her lips wanting to pull down. The pink troll knew she wasn't perfect. Differences of opinion did happen in the village, just not very often. She had always thought that was because she was good at making people happy, but what if instead it was because everyone was just indulging the princess? Did she really know best? Did she really know her people as well as she thought?

She closed her eyes, picturing her life. It doesn't happened often, but when I mess up I do get feedback from everyone. Maybe some of them keep quiet to preserve the harmony, but that's just not the impression I get from them. I just can't believe they feel like I have too much power over them.

When she didn't keep arguing with him, Branch seemed to calm down, as if he felt like he was finally getting through to her. When she turned a plaintive look on him, regret filled his face. Seeming sorry now for his outburst, the gray troll turned his back to her, his shoulders slumped.

Now she was even more confused. What's going on? Does he really think I have all the power in this relationship? Do I make him feel powerless?

Finally she found her voice, which turned out to be a little shaky. "I-I'm sorry, Branch. I'm truly sorry if I make you feel pressured. I don't mean to." She sighed unhappily. "It's just, sometimes I feel like I have to try really, really, really hard to get you to do things with me."

He didn't turn around, but one of his ears turned in her direction. He was listening.

Encouraged, she added, "Despite what you think, I'm really not the one with all the power here. I feel the same way as you sometimes."

"You-" Now he turned to face her, his look of surprise shifting to disbelief. "Yeah, right."

"No, it's true," she protested. "When we first started hanging out I was always afraid that I'd say or do the wrong thing and then you'd go away into the forest and disappear forever. I was afraid I'd never see you again. So you see? You aren't powerless."

He was silent for a long moment before his quiet voice drifted to her ears. "Maybe not. But I guess I feel like the only power I have is to walk away."

Her eyes widened. "Branch…"

So he really did feel powerless? Branch, who was so capable, so strong and independent that he didn't even need to live in the village with everyone else? How could he possibly think he was powerless? She was the one who needed his company. The wild forest troll was so amazing, so special, like no one she'd ever known. She wanted to do whatever she could to make him like her as much as she liked him.

Seeing her stunned expression, Branch repeated more quietly, "I walk away because it's the only thing I can do. It always has been." He lifted his hands, then let them drop down to slap against his legs, his face sagging into an expression of defeat. "Even though I know that walking away punishes me just as much as you. No, it punishes me more."

Her forehead crinkled. "How do you figure that?"

"You can always find somebody else to do stuff with. While I…" he trailed off. Poppy began to point out that he could have lots of friends if he just tried to make some, but he interrupted her fiercely. "You just don't get it! You get to be happy with everyone and I get nothing! And the worst part is, everybody thinks it's all my fault! It's like I deserve to be alone, just because I don't bow down and do whatever you or the rest of them want!"

Once again, the verbal slap to the face choked off her words. She didn't order him around like that, did she?Besides, back then Branch had been the one who'd always said things that hurt her and the other trolls. Why did he seem to feel that he was the injured party here?

But now his face was crumpling, as if he was about to cry. "It's not fair, Poppy. Friends should be equals."

"Branch, we are equals," she insisted gently.

"Are we?" he challenged her.

"Yes!"

"Your little 'foxfluff' is your equal?" he said pointedly.

"I…" Her face flushed. "I'm sorry. I guess I have gotten in the habit of thinking of you like that. But you're right. You're not a foxfluff." She sighed. "It was a cute nickname, but if you really don't like it, I won't call you that anymore."

"Nickname?" He looked surprised. "I thought you wanted to call me 'Branchifer'."

"Well, yeah, but you can have more than one nickname." Not wanting to get off track, Poppy said, "Listen, Branch, we're friends, right? You care about me, I care about you. That means you have just as much power to hurt me as I have to hurt you." She put a hand over her heart, her eyes shimmering with feeling. "Don't you see? When you walk away, you're rejecting me. And it really hurts to be rejected," she finished in a little voice.

"You…feel rejected, too?"

She nodded, noting his use of the word "too", and watched as understanding dawned on his face. "I-I'm sorry," he said, looking down.

Both trolls were silent, mulling things over. Finally Branch sighed. "I never thought of it like that. See, the other trolls never liked me. I didn't like to do the stuff they liked, which made me weird in their eyes. And I knew that, so I reacted with hostility, and then so did they. I'm sure it was a relief to them when I left. I was doing them a favor."

Poppy stood there trying to process that. "I can see how you'd think that, I guess. I just have a hard time believing it, because I like you so much. There's so many things about you I admire, and it makes me a little sad that the other trolls have never gotten the chance to know you, too. They're missing out on a great friendship."

"A great friendship, huh?" He gave her a sly look. "Even though I complain all the time?"

She responded airily, "Not all the time. And sometimes I guess you need to. When I'm being too pushy." She winked at him, and he grinned.

"All right. I won't do the photo shoot, but I will let you call me Foxfluff, if you want."

"Okay!" she chirped happily.

-O-

Branch watched as the pink troll's happy beam seemed to brighten the entire meadow, as it always did. He still preferred the cooler-sounding "Branchifer" better, but if Poppy thought he was cute… Eh, I guess I can put up with it. It's not like anyone else will ever hear her call me that.

After a minute Poppy piped up, "Hey, Branch? Can I ask you a question? I don't really understand why you don't want to do the photo shoot."

"I don't want the other trolls to know about me. You know that."

"But I wouldn't show them to anybody. Besides, even if someone did see them, they wouldn't know where you were. I haven't left a record of where to find you. My dad is probably the only one who could find this place. I had to give him an idea of where I was, just in case."

"Telling your dad is okay," he said, "but I'd still rather not have any physical proof that I exist. Accidents can happen. And once even one troll sees evidence that I'm still around, you know some of them will want to come looking for me. It would be a disaster."

Poppy frowned. He could tell she didn't agree with him, although he wasn't sure if it was because she was sure she could keep any photos she took of him safely hidden, or that she believed it wouldn't be a disaster for the other trolls to find him. Maybe both.

Then again, she didn't know what some of the trolls really thought of him. And he wasn't about to tell her, either.

Instead he continued, "You know this part of the forest isn't safe. They'd get eaten by predators, or worse, attract the attention of the bergens. Then we'd all be dead."

He caught Poppy staring upward with an expression of long-suffering on her face, as she often did when he mentioned the bergens, but she didn't try to argue with him. For good measure, he added, "And if by chance they made it here safely, they'd probably mass-hug me and I'd asphyxiate. Dead. Bleah." He let his tongue hang out the side of his mouth, clutching his throat with his hands.

Even though she rolled her eyes at his exaggeration, the pink princess couldn't help but grin a little at his pantomime. "Okay, fine. No photo shoot." She sighed, then brightened. "At least we can still dress up in the costumes."

"Gee, that sounds like fun."

She blinked. "Really?"

"No. I'm not a dressing-up kind of guy."

"But Branch, it's fun!"

"Poppy, what did we just say about pressuring me?"

She immediately wilted. "I'm sorry, Branch."

He held out for maybe five seconds before forgiving her. "That's okay. It's just, I don't like looking silly. Unlike some people," he lifted his nose into the air and smirked, "I have a sense of dignity."

"Dignity is important," Poppy acknowledged, "but so is playfulness. And despite how you protest, you and I both know you want to have fun. Don't you, Branch?" She gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. "My little foxfluff."

As always, being suddenly touched caught him off-guard, even though he knew she meant it in a friendly way. She caught the momentary tension on his face and her own smile faltered. Wanting to reassure her, he did not complain, merely rolling his eyes and giving her a wry little smile.

His tolerance was rewarded by the sight of the pretty princess bouncing happily. "Aw, you agree with me!"

He crossed his arms, feeling his smile grow bigger. Man, her cuteness is like a secret weapon. Nobody in the world could resist Poppy's charms. Not for long, at any rate.

"Okay, then! Since we're friends and equals and all that, do you have any ideas for today's activity?" She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned toward him, giving him her most charming expression.

Branch was caught in one of those moments where part of him wanted to take the opportunity she was handing him to say something witty and sarcastic. But the rest of him felt oddly weak, his usual grumpy reluctance disarmed by her sweet smile and even sweeter consideration for his feelings. If she was really asking him for a change…

"…Well, there is something." Would she do it?

Poppy leaned closer. "Yes?"

"I, uh…" He'd contemplated it, but now that the moment was upon him, he struggled to get the words out. "Um, the uh, – the brush."

"Brush?" She looked puzzled for a moment. Then her eyes lit up. "Oh, I get it. Sure, we can do that," she said cheerfully. "Come on, let's go sit under that big mushroom."

He followed her with nervous curiosity as the oddly entrancing image of the two of them brushing one another's hair passed through his mind. They'd come close, that time she'd been using the paintbrush on his face and had started running it through his hair. She'd stopped at his gasp of excitement. Maybe if I hadn't done that she'd have offered to swap out the paintbrush for a hairbrush, the one I found in the treat basket. She must have put it there because she wanted us to brush each other's hair, like in that picture.

Why he was still so entranced by the idea, he didn't know. But ever since he'd seen the hair-brushing scenes in Poppy's apology scrapbook, he couldn't help wondering if it was really as wonderful as it had looked.Now he would finally get to find out what was so special about it. And maybe Poppy will smile at me the way she did in the picture…

As soon as they entered the shady area under the largest mushroom in the meadow, Poppy crossed her legs and plopped to the ground. She patted the ground next to her and he sat, giving her a shy glance out of the corners of his eyes. He caught her movements as she reached onto her hair and pulled out an object.

"Do you want to lie down again, Branch?"

"'Again'?" Puzzled, he turned to look at her and his heart sank. In her hand she was holding…a paintbrush. The same big paintbrush she'd used during their first touch-based activity. "Oh."

He frowned, irritated at himself. What did you expect? You weren't specific enough. Of course she'd get the wrong idea. He held up a hand. "Sorry, but that's not what I meant."

"Oh?" she said curiously. "Then what did you mean?"

"I wanted to… Well…" He cleared his throat, suddenly realizing that the scrapbook picture that had attracted him more wasn't the one where Poppy was brushing his hair. It was the other one, where he basked in her adoring smile as his own hand gently drew the brush through her beautiful magenta locks. The one where their hands were touching, almost as if…as the two of them were…

He stumbled over his words. "I w-want – to brush – you. I – I mean-" He struggled to express himself, to use the clumsy tongue that still plagued him at times like this. Eight years of solitude had cost him more than he'd realized. His speech, gradually dwindling to almost nothing. No need for words. Until now.

Her face lit up. Unaware of his inner struggle, she said excitedly, "You mean it's finally my turn?" She shoved the paintbrush into his hand and flopped backward onto the ground, a big, happy grin lighting up her face. "I almost asked you for a turn the first time, but I thought it would be better to hold off until you were more comfortable with touching."

Branch looked down at the pretty pink troll lying next to him, waiting for him to reach out to her. Just like that, this was real. This was happening. She wanted him to reach out to her and…make her feel…

He gulped.

-O-

Looking up at her friend, Poppy watched the forest troll's eyes get big. He swallowed, glanced down at her body, then quickly glued his eyes to the paintbrush in his hands. "Branch?" she asked in concern. "This is okay, isn't it? Don't feel you need to do this if it might trigger your bad feelings." Recalling the conversation they'd just had, she added, "I mean it, Branch. Don't just go along with this because you think you have to. Speak up, just like you did a few minutes ago. I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"No, I want to," he replied, but she sensed that something was off. He was all tensed up.

She glanced from him to the paintbrush and understood. It was one thing to simply lie there and let her come to him, but being the one doing the reaching out was harder for him. Poppy felt a pang of guilt, but the fact that he hadn't immediately bolted encouraged her. He really was trying to interact with her, however awkwardly.

Was there a way she could make this easier for him? Poppy was used to teaching the trollings of the village. There was a method she used with them that might work here. "Branch, did you enjoy when I used the paintbrush on your skin? Was it a good experience?"

"Yes," he said immediately, which reassured her.

"Well, then, wouldn't you like to share that experience with me? Is it something you think I'd enjoy?"

His eyes lost focus for a moment as he recalled his own experience, then brightened as something seemed to click into place. Branch was so in his own head sometimes, so focused on his own fears and worries that he forgot to come out. And his head was one scary place.

But when she redirected his attention outside his own mind, he was able to empathize with her. To see things from her perspective. He could see her going through the same experience he had and enjoying it, and that made him want to give it to her. Empathizing with her meant he could see her as a person with the same needs for attention and affection that he had.

Now the inner warmth she knew was there began to emerge, and he smiled warmly down at her. "Yeah, I think so." He sat down beside her, shifting position to sit with one leg tucked in and the other stretched out for balance. She let her arms relax by her sides, pleased to see him responding to her efforts. It made her feel like they were really bonding.

He glanced up and down her body. "Okay, um… Are there any places you don't want me to touch? Like your feet? Are you ticklish?"

She paused to consider, then shrugged. "I'm pretty open to new experiences." She giggled. "Even ticklish ones."

Worry lines wrinkled his forehead. "New experiences? You mean you've never done this before? Not with anyone?"

"Well, I've had other trolls tickle me with feathers, or fingers, or their hair or whatever, but never with a paintbrush. I've had people put makeup on me, too, but that's not the same thing. So this will be a new experience, focusing on just the touching itself."

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "Great. Way to pile on the pressure."

She chuckled. "Look at it this way. Since this is a new experience for me, you don't have any previously established baseline standards to meet, or beat. Think of this as an experiment."

He perked up. "Yeah. An experiment. I can do that."

Good thing I speak Branchese, she thought smugly. "Do you want me to watch, or would you rather I closed my eyes?"

"Ah… Closed, I think."

She did so. Grinning with anticipation, she waited.

And waited.

And wai-

She gave up and opened her eyes to see him frozen, his face strained, the brush hovering just above her bare shoulder. "What's the matter?"

He managed to speak. "I'm…stuck. Like before. When I tried to hug you and couldn't."

In her mind she heard him say again, "My arms just won't go up. It's like something's stopping me."

Half-tempted to force the issue by simply pushing her shoulder up toward the paintbrush, she also recalled the rest of that conversation. She'd finally managed to get him talking about what he was feeling inside; a real breakthrough. "When you come at me, I get this feeling…dread…in the pit of my stomach."

Branch was afraid. In his mind there was a barrier that didn't really exist, and yet it did. For all its intangibility, it was real.

To push or not to push? Help him break the ice, or back off and try again another day?

As she hesitated, she saw a drop of sweat bead on his brow and was instantly sorry. "It's okay, Branch. If it's triggering your bad feelings, we don't have to do this."

Even though she'd spoken quietly, he winced as if she'd shouted. "Want to share this with you. Really. It…felt so nice." Suddenly he threw his head back and groaned aloud. "Shouldn't be a trigger! Never did this with anybody, so why? What is wrong with me?"

Never mind, Branch. Let's stop for today. We can try again tomorrow, she started to tell him, then stopped herself. Ordering him around again. He's doing this because he wants to. He wants to push through. She recalled the time she'd made him feel better by simply acknowledging his feelings, that day when he was fiercely chopping wood, and said instead, "It's okay to be nervous, Branch. If it helps, I'm proud of you for wanting to keep trying."

Some of the strain left his face, replaced by a faint smile. "Thanks, Poppy."

"You seem kind of frustrated right now," she went on.

He half-laughed through his nose. "Frustrated is the word, all right."

The forest troll was speaking in full sentences again. That and the return of his sense of humor were good signs that he was calming down. She waited for him to say something more, but he seemed to be waiting for her to keep speaking.

"If you don't mind a suggestion," she finally said in a polite tone, "a little distance from a problem can help make it seem less, well, crucial. Why don't we just chill together for a while?" She patted the grass beside her, and after a pause, he nodded and lay down next to her. The pink troll laced her fingers over her belly and crossed one ankle over the other, then added in a deliberately casual tone, "And if at some point you feel like doodling on me with that paintbrush, go right ahead. But it's no big deal. No pressure."

Lying beside her on the grass, Branch turned his head and smiled at her – and suddenly she felt warm all over. She'd seen him smile before, but this smile was…different somehow. Softer, sweeter, more tender than she'd ever known he could look. She could feel the waves of affection flowing from him. His appreciation for the way she took care of his feelings.

Her belly fluttered with love for her awkward, lonely, brave friend, who struggled so much with expressing his sensitive side. He didn't need to say anything. The look on his face right now showed exactly how he felt about her.

Suddenly Poppy experienced a strong urge to touch him – but for some reason, it wasn't to hug him. She wanted… She wanted to touch his face. To stroke his cheek, as she'd done before, but not with the paintbrush this time. She wanted to feel his soft-looking skin under her own fingers.

Of course, she didn't do it, because Branch would probably freak out. He was looking so content right now that she wouldn't have done something that disturbed him for all the cupcakes in the world. But she still wanted to reach out to him.

Since she couldn't, she gave him a warm smile of her own, letting him see the love and appreciation she had for him. Every day, her admiration for the forest troll grew stronger.

The young trolls gazed into one another's eyes for a little while, communing with no need for words. Breathing together. Bonding. The world was quiet and Branch was with her.

His ear flicked when the wind rustled a nearby bush and sent a few leaves floating through the air above them, breaking the spell. Some of his usual alertness came back and he looked from side to side, scanning the sky beyond the rim of the mushroom cap above them.

Poppy waited patiently until he'd satisfied himself that there were no threats, privately pleased that her little foxfluff had stayed with her instead of getting up to patrol the area. It meant he was feeling safer. It meant that her company made him feel safer.

That sense of security was one of the greatest benefits of companionship, one he'd gone without for far too long. If she could, she'd take him back to the village with her today. She'd spend every day having fun with him by her side, at least until he felt secure enough around the other trolls to start reaching out to them. Seeing him make friends of his own would make her so proud. It was a goal she would never stop striving for.

But to reach that goal, she would have to be patient. To go at Branch's slow, cautious pace. For today, she wanted to help him relax enough to reach out to her, if only with a paintbrush. It occurred to her that there might be a way she could help prepare him for both of those challenges. Poppy began to talk about various trolls in the village, telling him about the challenges some of them faced. What better way to get him to start caring about them and distract him from his earlier nervousness at the same time?

Branch lay quietly next to her, watching the blue sky above them for birds or other predators. He offered an occasional comment once in a while, but otherwise seemed content to listen to her talk.

After about a quarter of a Hug Time, he made his move.

"Biggie's clock is still running slow," she was saying. "He winds and sets it every morning, and yet by the end of the day it's two hours behind. I've started giving him invitations with start times earlier than they really are…"

Poppy trailed off as she felt something smooth and fluffy slide along her arm. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and continued talking. "…just so he won't be so late to everything. It's working out okay for now…"

Branch rolled onto his side to face her and continued to run the paintbrush gently along her arm while Poppy kept babbling about whatever random thing came to mind. "Do you think that cloud looks more like a bunny or a flopper hopper?" she asked, pointing with the arm that was not being stroked – stroked! – by her curious little foxfluff.

Beside her he murmured, "Looks more like a puffalo to me."

"Oh, I guess you're right." She laughed giddily, trying not to let her excitement get out of control. Inside, she was squealing like crazy. Eeeeeee! He did it!

-O-

As he listened to his friend's fake-casual chatter, Branch suppressed a smile. It helped, not having her direct her full attention on him. This isn't as awkward as I thought it would be. Once again, Poppy had managed to find a way to make something unthinkable manageable.

It had been easier when it was his turn, of course; when all he'd had to do was lie there and let her come to him. But it turned out that he could do this. He could relax and reach out to her without it being some big important thing. As if he were simply painting a picture – no, a sculpted figure. He hadn't bothered with art in years, but the sensation of having a brush in his hand felt familiar enough to be reassuring. Like all trolls, he'd been raised with a good grounding in the all the major arts and crafts, from sculpture to scrapbooking. It seemed almost natural, as if the brush was his hand, running over the smooth skin of her arm; at once a tease and caress…

Poppy had a big, toothy grin on her face now, but thankfully, she didn't look at him. He could tell she liked what he was doing, which made him feel a little bolder. He decided he was ready to move to another part of her body. Maybe he'd tickle her feet. He felt a smirk pulling up the corners of his lips, and didn't fight it. It would be amusing to see her try to keep talking without laughing.

Soon the meadow was filled with the high-pitched squeals of a wildly laughing pink troll. Man, she wasn't kidding about being ticklish! He couldn't help but grin at her antics as she lay there wildly wiggling her toes and trying not to squirm or kick, obviously delighted with his attention. Waiting for his touch. It had never occurred to him that someone would ever react that way to anything he did, but he liked it. It made him feel…special. Appreciated. He could barely remember a time when someone had liked him as much as Poppy did. Actually, it was Poppy back then, too.

He caught the funny little snerk sound that she always made when she laughed, and a surge of tenderness brought him up on his elbow, gazing down at her happy face. Oh, Poppy. Such a wonderful, sweet, spirited girl. The village is so lucky to have you for a princess, just as I'm lucky to have you for a friend. I want to do something nice for you, to make you as happy as you've made me.

He recalled the most sublime feeling he knew, and without really thinking about it, made the choice to share it with her.

-O-

When Poppy saw him leaning over her, her laughter faded. There was a soft light in his eyes, and an even softer smile on his lips as he brought the paintbrush toward her face. Her eyes got big and then she squinched them shut, clamping her teeth on her lower lip in gleeful anticipation.

Fluffy brush-hairs made contact with her cheek. It tickled a little as he stroked outward, but in a good way. She let out a hum of appreciation and he responded by guiding the brush into slow, lazy swirls, first one cheek, then the other. The brush lifted, then touched her forehead, gently stroking her bangs aside. Just like Branch had, Poppy found herself relaxing under his gentle touch. Her excitement faded as contentment took its place. "You're right, Branch," she murmured. "This does feel nice."

She heard a light chuckle, and then the brush flowed in a long, smooth curve around her entire face. A serene sigh emerged from her lips. He moved across her forehead again, then drifted down between her eyes to the tip of her nose. Then along her cheekbones and up toward her eyes, delicately tracing around them. The hair on one of her eyebrows bent the wrong way, but he immediately noticed and swept the paintbrush back over it, smoothing it back into place.

The brush lifted for a long moment, as if he were deciding his next move. She started to crack one eye open, but stopped as she sensed a shadow approaching. Lightly, delicately, her friend ran the brush down each of her eyelids. She felt her long, thick lashes bend with its passing and couldn't help smiling.

She made a small sound of enjoyment, loving this. Loving him. This was amazing. So special, so intimate. Why had she never experienced anything quite like this with any of her other friends?

"Is this okay?" came his soft voice, checking in with her for a change.

"Mm-hm," she murmured, matching his cozy tone.

"Well, then…"

The brush lifted. Poppy wondered happily which part of her he would stroke next. Her nose? Her ears? Or maybe go back to tickling her toes?

She was right about it being her ears, as she felt two lovely long sweeps glide from her cheeks all the way out to the tips of her ears. Shimmery, shivery tingles sparkled through her entire body, making her giggle with delight. This was amazing-

"Wait, what? Two brushes?"

Poppy opened her eyes to see twin arcs of black hair hovering over her. Branch sat near her, paintbrush in hand. Her mouth dropped open, and he shrugged, one corner of his mouth turning up. "I figured if one brush feels nice, two must feel amazing, right?"

Poppy blinked. Branch was teasing her! Used to his flat sarcasm by now, it always surprised and pleased her whenever he managed to find another way to express the trolly playfulness she knew he had deep inside him.

As her own mouth began to curve upward he even did it again, tickling her ears with the tips of his hair. Poppy let out a happy squeal and sat up, laughing. "Leave it to my clever little foxfluff to figure out a more efficient way to do it. I never even thought about just using my hair."

She was thrilled to see him grin widely, smugly pleased with himself. "Well, what can I say? I'm a natural problem-solver."

-O-

It wasn't until she pulled out her Forest Troll and Me scrapbook that evening to update it that Poppy realized that she did, in fact, have a record of her interactions with a certain gray troll. She gave it a guilty look, then rallied. Nobody will figure it out. I've been using green felt for the Branch character, not gray. His name isn't mentioned anywhere, either; it just says "The Forest Troll". I did give his character black hair, but that shouldn't be too obvious, right?

Even so, she decided to hide the scrapbook behind some of her other ones from now on. It made the books stick out a little from the wall niche, but it wasn't too noticeable, she thought.

As Poppy was scrapbooking their daily progress, she thought more about what Branch had said.

While trolls did prefer harmony, that didn't mean there weren't disagreements and conflict sometimes. Usually they would communicate and work out solutions on their own, or at worst, Poppy or her dad would act as a mediator to help them work through their differences. Walking away seemed like the wrong choice. How could you work out your differences if you didn't talk to each other?

But what if you were sure – absolutely sure - that no matter what you said, the other person wouldn't listen? If you truly felt helpless, hopeless, like your words wouldn't make any difference, then walking away might seem like your only option.

How did he come to feel that way? Has he always felt like this? If so, what happened to him to make him like this? What happened to make him…gray?

-O-

That afternoon with Poppy, sharing space without talking, simply mutually appreciating one another, reminded Branch of his time with his friend Fluffy. The deep comfort he'd felt, easing away the inner tension that always seemed to be with him. The world was full of danger, but right here, right now, he was fine. There was nothing bad here in his bunker, no reason not to relax and enjoy himself in whatever way he pleased. Somehow Fluffy had always been able to make him feel as if things would be all right.

He'd forgotten that feeling after what had happened to Fluffy. Just like when he'd lost Grandma, something had gone horribly wrong with his world and it had stayed that way.

Until Poppy came along and brought that feeling back. How, he didn't know, but he was beginning to recognize that he wanted that feeling. Needed it. Craved it, even.

He wanted more. For the first time in forever, he wanted to invite someone into his life and just…see how it went. Maybe it would end in disaster. But maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't. Maybe it would end up being the best thing he'd ever done with his life. He was tired of only having the worst. It was time to reach for something more.

It was time to hope.

Author's Note:

No, you didn't miss anything. I haven't mentioned Fluffy yet. Just setting up some future plotlines, lol 😊 We'll hear more about Fluffy in the coming chapters.

Living in the moment is a type of grounding, which is known to help ease anxiety.