-O-

Picturebook Romance

A Trolls fanfic

By Dreamsinger

Chapter Sixty-Five

Memory Lane 2:

Ephemeral Golden Summer

Although by far the shortest, in many ways my unexpectedly deep connection with another lost, traumatized young trolling had more of an impact on my basic character than any other.

Caring for Acorn taught me how to be genuinely empathetic and supportive. I learned compassion, patience, respect for another's feelings. I learned to be sensitive to body language and minute changes in facial expressions. To understand what went unsaid; to know without being asked what was needed.

I'd been taught such lessons all my life, but it was only now that I really seemed to need to use them. As the older, more experienced troll, I was the one who set the tune of our interactions. My past relationships had always been passive, receptive. But if I wanted to have a good relationship with Acorn, I needed to be the one to take action. I needed reach out to him.

For once, I wanted to reach out.

It changes you, to have the kind of unquestioning love and acceptance that only a young child can give. To realize that I was big and strong now; more than capable of protecting someone small and fearful, and making him feel safe. It was eye-opening to be someone's hero at a time when I'd never felt more negative about myself. To realize that I was nowhere near as pathetic a person as I'd come to believe.

Through his appreciative eyes, I began to recognize many of my better qualities as the assets they were: foresight, tenacity, intelligence, inventiveness, protectiveness, and a strong sense of responsibility. Ironically, the qualities that wouldn't let me give up on my conviction that someday the bergens would find us again were the very same qualities that Acorn admired and tried to imitate.

Imitation is the highest form of flattery, as they say, and I couldn't help but respond to Acorn's. To see myself the way he saw me. To my growing surprise, I liked a lot of what I saw. When I was with Acorn, I liked myself more. It made me want to be a better troll. I even began bathing regularly again, telling myself that I had to set a good example for Acorn after his mom told me he was trying to get out of taking baths in order to look "tough, like Branch." He even wanted his hair cut to look like mine. When I saw him, I actually let out an involuntary, "Awww…" I couldn't help but find my little buddy adorable.

I also found that I enjoyed bathing every day a lot more than I thought I would. Clean skin was refreshing and far less itchy. Thanks to that, I had fewer breakouts, too. I was a lot less self-conscious when I left the pod these days. In fact, when Acorn was with me, I even forgot to worry that the other trolls were judging me.

As my self-image improved, so did my mood in general. I felt calmer, more confident. Problems that used to feel like a big deal seemed more manageable now. Even hanging with Poppy and the gang was cool. Poppy was overjoyed to have me back in her friend group, and seeing her happy made me happy, too. And it was all thanks to a little trolling named Acorn.

When I reluctantly agreed to look after him, I'd had no idea how very important Acorn would become to me. Or that by the end of the summer, I would even more reluctantly add a few more admirable character traits to the list: self-reflection, selflessness, and sacrifice.

-O-

"Can you sleep in the bed with me, Branch?" Acorn asked me at bedtime on the second day.

"Sure," I answered without hesitation. My bed was small, but so was Acorn, and after seeing how restlessly he'd slept earlier in the hammock I knew he really did need me to be there. I knew exactly how it felt to be sleeping in an unfamiliar pod with virtual strangers. "That's fine."

He approached me and stood on his toes, lifting his face up toward me. As I gave him a questioning look, he asked, "Aren't you gonna kiss me good night?"

I blinked, nonplussed. Some of my foster parents had insisted on kissing me for various reasons, but I hadn't kissed anyone myself since Grandma, way back when I was a trolling myself.

But Acorn was waiting, little lines of worry appearing between his eyes. "Branch?"

"Um, right."

I bent down and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, and he kissed me back on the cheek before I could straighten up. "Good night, Branch. I love you," he said easily. Looking satisfied, he hopped onto my bed and began to get himself settled.

I gazed at him for a minute, my hand pressed to my cheek where he'd kissed me. I felt the corner of my mouth lift, bumping into my fingers. I was smiling.

"I love you, too, little buddy. Sweet dreams."

-O-

When we woke up on the morning of the third day, Acorn's eyes were blue again, and the rest of his colors were definitely a little brighter. I was so relieved to see that he wasn't going to turn out like me after all that I was uncharacteristically cheerful for hours.

I couldn't help but wonder if the reason he was recovering so much faster than I had was because of me. Because I'd understood how guilty it made you feel to survive after a loved one was gone. If that was true, then maybe everything I'd gone through hadn't been for nothing after all. Acorn was getting better, and I was glad.

He was still having trouble sleeping at night, though. The darkness seemed to bring out all his fears, so Hammock Time became a regular thing for us. I didn't mind, though. It was easy enough to bring along a book or two, gaze up at the clouds, or even sleep a little myself.

-O-

Over that summer, Hammock Time also became a time for long, quiet talks. There was something about being physically close to someone that made barriers disappear. When you wanted to share everything you were thinking, even the things you were most afraid or ashamed of.

It gave me hope. If Acorn can recover from his father's death despite the secret feelings of guilt he confessed to me, then maybe someday I might be able to bring myself to tell him what happened to Grandma. Maybe he wouldn't think I was such an awful troll.

After all, as I'd inadvertently told him earlier, I hadn't meant for anything bad to happen to her. Maybe if I told Acorn what had really happened, he might understand. Maybe the heavy weight of guilt I carried might feel a little lighter. Maybe things might be…better.

-O-

Change was in the air, which seemed to be humming with a not-unpleasant feeling of anticipation. When Acorn became restless during Hammock Time that afternoon, I found myself humming to him, too. As soon as he heard me he immediately calmed down, which pleased me more than a little. I'd forgotten what it felt like to raise my voice and make someone feel better.

It made me feel good, too. More than good, really. For the first time since I'd lost my colors, I could clearly remember what it felt like to sing. As if I were soaring on the wind, high and free and full of life.

So you want a song, little one? I gazed affectionately down at the trolling cuddled against me, remembering his earlier request. Something inside me knew that I was finally ready to answer it. A soft blue-green glow began to spread over my skin. My voice was soft too as I began to sing an old, beloved lullaby. "The moon-"

"Acorn! Acorn, where are you?"

I jumped and yelped, almost dumping us both onto the ground. Beside me, Acorn jolted awake. "Mommy? Mommy, is that you?"

An adult female troll came rushing up to us, and Acorn leaped from my arms into hers. She clutched him to her and twirled in circles, both of them shedding tears of joy. Part of me was genuinely glad for Acorn. This was his beloved mother, Tulip, after all. But the rest of me felt a vague sense of resentment at her intrusion. Out of quarantine already? Then…Acorn won't be coming home with me tonight.

I knew that was a good thing, but all I could do was stare expressionlessly at the happy pair. I felt myself pull back inside, uselessly trying to protect myself from the coming loss. The glowing turquoise light coming from my skin flickered, then dimmed. Memories faded until the song in my heart was gone, back into the shadows. My skin was as gray as ever.

Well, that's over with, I told myself, trying to ignore the emptiness inside me. I guess life is back to normal. I began to back away, mentally reconfiguring the rest of my day. I'd planned to spend it with Acorn, but obviously those plans were over now. As I turned to walk away, I tried to ignore a wistful thread of thought. I wish this could have gone on a little longer. It might have been, well, fun.

Suddenly a little hand grasped mine and I was pulled back. "Where are you going, Branch? Come meet my mommy!"

I turned to see the smiling face of a pretty coral-pink troll with golden-orange hair, a teal-blue nose, and sky-blue eyes like Acorn's. Before I could say anything, she immediately hugged me, pinning my arms to my sides and squeezing my gangly (for a troll) fourteen-year-old body tightly.

Startled, I managed to stay still instead of struggling to get free as I usually did. Tulip gushed, "Thank you for how kind you've been to my son! Acorn told me you've been like a big brother to him! I hope you'll continue to be one to him in the future."

Awkwardly I replied, "Um, it was no trouble. Acorn's a great little buddy."

Now Acorn hugged me, too. As I stood there with the two of them clinging to me, I tilted my head back and smiled at the sky. I should've known this wasn't over.

When they finally let go, Acorn immediately let loose a stream of enthusiastic chatter, describing everything we'd done over the past three days. His mother listened attentively, even though I knew she already knew all about it through the numerous get-well cards Acorn had sent her every day.

The only thing Acorn didn't mention, I noticed, was the fact that he hadn't gone straight to his father that day. I couldn't help feeling a little bit of smug satisfaction about that. He obviously knew I'd understand him in a way his mother wouldn't.

Feeling a little better now, as I watched the family reunion I thought about what I'd heard about his poor deceased father. It turned out that Cardigan Twill had been a master weaver of exotic types of cloth, including cloth made from spider silk. He had died while harvesting cords of silk from the nests of the giant white fur spiders that lived in only one location in the forest: the glen where the black-spotted white fur trees grew.

When I'd first heard that, I thought he'd been incredibly reckless. We have domesticated spiders for silk. Why go after giant troll-eating ones? …Although I have to admit, it's ironic that he managed to get himself killed not by the spiders, but by the very silk he was harvesting.

Then someone else told me thatCardigan had always gone to harvest the silk during the spiders' mating season, when the spiders spent several weeks traveling to some far-off location to reproduce. So he wasn't as foolish as I'd thought. Itshould have been safe. Safe enough for Acorn's mother to decide to send Acorn off to spend a few days with his dad, while the Tickle Flu made its rounds through the village, anyway.

"Should" is the operative word here, I thought, half condemning, half regretful. It "should" have been safe. Yet he'd died anyway. All because he'd neglected to wear a simple helmet, or use a safety net. And now poor Acorn and his mother would pay the price for the same blind optimism that had exasperated me all my life.

Safety First. It was my mantra in life.When would people learn to be more careful? When would they realize that danger was everywhere? Would it kill them to take a few extra steps in the name of safety? Because not being prepared sure does kill them. I couldn't even scold people about it, because then they would all give me that look. The one that said they thought I was being a downer; or worse, cruel.

Even so, if I thought they'd listen to me, I'd speak up.I didn't care about being popular; I cared about saving lives.

I cared about Acorn, too.

Before they left to get ready for the funeral, Acorn and Tulip hugged me again, and this time I hugged them back. I waved a slow goodbye to my little buddy. The day that had seemed so full of promise had gone dull and empty. Like my life.

At Cardigan's funeral party, while the rest of the trolls celebrated his life, Acorn never left my side. His eyes had gone colorless again at some point, which made me sad.

A week passed.

I visited the little family every day. Acorn was always glad to see me. He would come running and leap up into my arms, hugging me like a long-lost relative. When I tried to leave, he would cling to me, begging me to return the next day. He wouldn't let me go until I promised.

At least once during every visit Acorn would beg his mother to let him go with me, and I'd offer to take him, but Tulip refused. She wanted Acorn close, and I couldn't blame her. I'd feel the same if I was in her situation. I knew the coral-colored chemist was going through a lot right now. Besides dealing with her husband Cardigan's death, Acorn's new sibling was due to hatch any time now. Tulip always looked so tired these days. It worried me.

All I could do was offer my help. "If you need anything, just ask."

"You're a good boy, Branchkin," she would say, looking pleased and a little less tired.

Encouraged, I repeated, "I mean it. Day or night. Anything at all. Just ask."

"Thank you, Branchkin. I will."

Then, a week after the funeral, Acorn suddenly showed up at Leafe's pod. He explained that his mother was busy and had given him permission to visit me. A big smile spread over my face as I opened my arms and he jumped into them. Plans I'd put on hold came rushing back. "Okay, so I took a good look at the hammock the other day, and some of the ropes are a little frayed. What do you say today we go learn about knot-tying?"

"Sure, Branch!"

We talked to Laurel, who seemed intrigued by my question. She decided that we should all go to see her parents, since they had been building things since before she was hatched.

I was a little nervous about seeing the mentors I'd avoided for the better part of two years, but after a little teasing about not visiting them, the Whizbangs acted glad to see me. They didn't scold me about my Incident, and I didn't bring it up. When I explained the day's project, Finetune and Savvy were delighted that I was still interested in engineering. They were also happy that I was passing on the knowledge I'd learned to a younger trolling.

Oddly enough, instead of just telling me themselves, the elder Whizbangs sent the three of us on a scavenger hunt of sorts. We went around the village collecting information on various types of knots from the trolls who used them in their hobbies or professions, from fishing to weaving. Acorn knew many of the trolls who worked with cloth, and was happy to make introductions.

Everyone was kind, especially to Acorn, which made me feel more comfortable around people than I had been in a long time. Everyone we talked to extended some kind of invitation to us; for further learning, a game or activity of some kind, or just afternoon tea.

Seeing the opportunity for unexpected fun, several of the knot-makers accompanied Acorn and me back to Leafe's pod. All of us spent an enjoyable afternoon working together on the smiley-faced hammock. We took it down, created a sturdy, comfortable rope frame for it, and re-hung it. We even designed an awning to hang over it, to guarantee constant shade for optimum napping.

Everyone had a chance to try it out. We made a couple of tweaks in the design, and then as a group, we held a small, friendly celebration before I walked Acorn back home to his mom for supper. She didn't light up when she saw Acorn this time, I noticed, but she was cordial to me. She thanked me for looking after her son and offered me some lemon-raspberry cake. As a growing teenager, I was happy to take her up on her offer.

I walked home full of cake and satisfaction for a job well done. Underneath, there was another feeling present that took me a while to identify.

Belonging.

All it took was a personal quest, and just like that, barriers seemed to disappear. Connections were made, and suddenly Acorn and I were part of a group of friends. Funny how things work out. Making friends didn't used to be this easy. Maybe it's because of Acorn.

It was, but that wasn't the only reason. It was also the result of my mentors' scheming. I found out later that sending us all over the village was the Whizbangs' way of getting me involved in the community again. Sneaky, but I couldn't really hold it against them. I was too practical to ignore a tactic that got such successful results.

From that point on, Acorn and I began to go places and do things. Sometimes with others, sometimes just by ourselves. We worked on a different project every day. I was glad that Tulip was letting him spend so much time with me now. It had been a lonely week without him.

Life had changed for me once again, but for once, I agreed with the direction it had gone. Maybe that made a difference in my overall attitude. When we played with the other trolls, I noticed that they seemed to see me differently now. I was starting to see myself differently as well. Acorn needed to feel safe, which meant I had to keep it together and not freak out over every little thing. So I kept my cool. I spoke with assurance. The other trolls treated me with respect, and because of that, I began to respect myself more. Whatever came along, I knew I could figure out a way to handle it.

Not that I was perfect by any means, but somehow these days it didn't fluster me nearly as much when something went wrong. Even when 10-year-old Poppy bugged me to join one of her crazy plans, I found that I didn't mind joining in the chaos once in a while. Maybe because now, when Acorn and I had other plans, she accepted that and didn't keep pestering me. Self-confidence had all kinds of benefits, it seemed.

Maybe it was a side effect of my new self-assurance, or maybe it was just having a companion who really wanted to be with me, but as the summer progressed I began to notice even more changes within me. A feeling of well-being unlike anything I'd ever felt before, except maybe when I was very little. Way back when I not only had my grandma, but my original parents. Back when my family was whole. A sense of serenity, and stability.

If this was how the other trolls felt all the time, no wonder they found it easy to laugh and sing and hug all the time. No wonder they found it easy to be happy.

-O-

I spent the rest of that endless yet ephemeral golden summer spending long days with Acorn, playing with him, helping him with school work, and teaching him other important stuff. I made sure he understood how dangerous it was to attract the attention of hostile animals, including bergens. We went over basic engineering and safety practices, camouflaging techniques, trap making, and how to voluntarily move our ears to listen for danger. Well, he was still working on that last one.

Thanks to his parents' teachings, Acorn was a wonderfully apt pupil. He loved to mix ingredients together, for cooking or for science experiments. He also wanted to plant herbs for his mother to use in her work, so I spent some time every day helping him tend his own little garden.

Acorn taught me things, too. Skills he had learned from his parents that would turn out to be invaluable to me later on, as a one-troll village in a bunker.

From his mother the chemist, Acorn knew a lot of random, useful information, such as how to make soap, shampoo, toothpaste, food condiments, paint, and glue. His knowledge of healing herbs also came in handy when one of us got a minor injury, too. He seemed to enjoy making poultices for scrapes and bruises. I noticed that when he was in healing mode, he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. His little hands were gentle and soothing, yet quick and precise. He seemed like a different trolling than the one who cuddled up to me during Hammock Time and whimpered in his sleep.

"Wow, Acorn. I am really impressed," I praised him. "You're really good at this."

He seemed surprised. "You think so?"

"Yeah. You know, at one time I was thinking of becoming a medical professional, but you – you have a real gift for it, Lil' Nut."

His little face lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah. You're so competent and reassuring, just like Doc Whipple. I can just see you wearing a white coat someday, tending to sick or injured patients and making them feel better."

He looked thoughtful. "Maybe I will, then. I really like helping hurt people feel better."

As the son of a weaver, Acorn could also sew, knit, and mend clothing. He taught me where to gather raw materials, too, such as the felt-leaves that made up the bulk of traditional troll cloth. We collected owie-leaves and soft, fuzzy plantain leaves to make into larger bandages, and spun thread from cotton-leaf fibers. We used puffalo wool to make our own blankets for camping, and as lining for warmer clothing.

It was Acorn's idea to sew leaves onto a vest as camouflage. I liked the idea so much that I decided to wear a similar outfit from then on.

I was more impressed by my young friend every day. Acorn had even mastered the tricky, delicate job of harvesting the near-invisible silken threads from the small, friendly domesticated spiders the village raised. He liked to spend a little time every day working on a beautiful embroidery scene made from shiny bright-colored silk thread, in memory of his father. In it, Cardigan was mint-green and lavender, and surrounded by his loving family. Everyone was smiling. I smiled too when I saw Acorn adding in a familiar gray figure, holding hands with a mint-green trolling.

Mint-green, because Acorn's colors were getting brighter every day. He was doing so well now that I found myself mentioning the bergens infrequently, torn between wanting him to be prepared for their inevitable return, and not wanting to bring him down or frighten him. I remembered all too well how scary the world could be when you were small.

It was my job to make Acorn feel safe and happy, and yet there were times when he was the one who comforted me. I'd always found it difficult to be vulnerable around other trolls, turning away from open arms and well-meant but empty reassurances. But I found that I could accept such solace from my small companion in a way that I couldn't from anyone else, except maybe Poppy.

Maybe it was just that I felt closer to him than I had to anyone since Grandma. Even beyond the secret feelings of guilt we both shared over our loved ones' deaths, Acorn understood me better than anyone ever had. Or maybe it was because he was also a fellow trolling, not yet an adult. Eight years separated Acorn and me, but despite that, or maybe because of it, we were close in a way I'd never been able to manage with anyone my own age. We ate together, bathed together, and played together. We had Hammock Time naps together, and even studied together.

I helped Acorn with the academic work, and he helped me with the empathy roleplaying assignments. Sometimes Leafe and Cherry Blossom joined in, too. It turned out that Acorn had the same sort of instinctive understanding that Cherry Blossom had; both of them able to read a room at a glance. He always knew when I was feeling bad, and how to make me feel better.

One day when I'd decided that his hair color seemed to be just about back to its normal bluish-lavender color, I wanted to show him how to use it to camouflage himself. When he had trouble figuring it out, I got upset because I couldn't demonstrate it for him.

That was the day we ended up talking about a topic I was pretty sensitive about.

"I can't change my hair color…because I'm gray."

"Huh? But I'm still kinda grayish and I can change my hair color." His small wisp of neatly-trimmed lavender went sky blue, then cherry blossom pink. "See?"

"I know. But it doesn't work for me. I've been colorless for too long, I think." I sighed as I gazed longingly at the bright wisp of hair in front of me, then looked away, mumbling, "I don't even know what color I am…"

His hair reverted to normal as he said helpfully, "You're gray, with black hair and blue eyes and a grayish-purple nose."

"Well, yes, but I wasn't always gray. I used to have colors just as bright as yours."

"You did? What were they?"

"I…" I frowned in concentration. "I think I was blue…or maybe green? Um, and my hair was blue. Or purple, I think. I'm not sure." Acorn gave me a puzzled look, and I spread my hands out helplessly. "Sorry. It's been so long, I don't really remember exactly what my colors used to be." I gazed down glumly, turning my hands over to show that the backs were as gray as the palms. "If I still have any color left in me at all."

My shoulders and ears began to droop, but then his little green hands covered mine. I looked up to see Acorn smiling at me. "A'course you do. Your ears are aqua."

"They're what?" I gave him a startled look.

"When the light shines through 'em, I can see it. Sort of a light greeney-blue color. An' I bet your hair is purple, like mine. Your eyes are blue, and so are mine." Joyfully he threw his arms around me. "We're like brothers!"

Surprised, it took me a moment to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. "Brothers, eh?"

Maybe we were. We supported each other. We respected each other. We took care of each other, like real brothers did. And most of all, we loved each other.

-O-

"Awww… that's so sweet!" Poppy said as she did exactly the same thing, hugging me affectionately as we stood together in the sun-dappled lane.

I held her close, glad all over again that the time I was describing was long past, and a new, happy future was what I had to look forward to. I didn't like talking about the past, but I could bear it, because she was with me.

"I'm glad that you two had such a great time together," Poppy said as she kissed my cheek and stepped back to give me a sweet smile. "You sure have some wonderful memories to share. You ought to make a scrapbook or two. Hey, maybe you could even give one to Acorn."

"Do you think he'd want one?" I asked in surprise.

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Because… Well, I haven't told you why yet. You see…"

-O-

Knowledgeable though he was, Acorn was still only six years old. Young enough to still want to be safely nestled in my arms or my hair when something frightened or upset him. Young enough to accept anything I said as unquestioningly as if I were a real authority figure.

I'd never had anyone look up to me before. It was a joy; it was a burden. It was uplifting, and humbling. It was scary and thrilling and made me feel like I had feathers for hair or like I weighed a thousand pounds. It made me feel secure, yet it terrified me.

I often woke from nightmares where I'd somehow allowed something bad to happen to him, yet it never failed to lift my spirits when I first saw his smiling face each day.

Being Acorn's "big brother" had some curious quirks. For example, even though we both knew he was well able to care for his own injuries, he preferred to have me do it. I might groan in frustration when he came to me with every little scrape or splinter, but I would have been disgruntled if he'd chosen to go to someone else. Secretly, I marveled at his unshakable faith that no matter his hurt, I would be able to make it better.

Obviously, that wasn't always true. I didn't understand how he could believe that, and yet… Every once in a while a vague memory would surface, of a strangely familiar feeling deep inside me. A stable foundation. The safe, secure haven I'd known from the day I was hatched until my family was torn away from me. Once, I had been a normal trolling like Acorn, before the series of devastating losses began. Losses that had ended in my grandmother's death, which had forever shattered my trust in, well, everything.

"You can't count on me. You have to learn to rely on yourself, little buddy," I tried to explain as I opened the first-aid kit I always carried in my hair. As I pulled out an owie-leaf to cover the little scratch on his nearly-back-to-normal mint-green skin, I added, "I won't always be here to make everything better."

Acorn looked alarmed. "You won't? Are you going away?"

"Huh? Oh, no, that's not what I meant. I just meant, in the future. A long time from now."

"Oh." He relaxed. "Okay."

"So I… Uh… Man, you made me forget what I was going to say," I grumbled, half joking.

Acorn chortled gleefully. It was one of our jokes. Acorn was a very curious little trolling, always asking questions. It had an annoying tendency to lead our conversations off on tangents without me realizing it. At first it had annoyed me, but then I'd taken to teasing my little buddy.

"Admit it, Lil' Nut; you're doing this on purpose," I would playfully accuse him in a light tone. He would burst into giggles of delight as I put my hands on my hips and shook my head in mock-disapproval.

The first time it happened, I'd been genuinely disconcerted, my ever-changing voice cracking and squeaking as I tried to recall the point I'd been trying to make.

Acorn had begun to laugh. "I like you, Branch! You're so funny!"

"I am?"

"Yup. I like how you're never too busy to take care of me."

Something about that didn't sound right to me. "Thanks. Um… Other trolls take care of you when I'm not with you, don't they? Like at school?"

"Oh, sure. But they don't teach me cool stuff like you do."

"What about your mom?"

"Mommy… Uh, she works a lot. And she's busy taking care of my new baby sister and all."

Acorn's little sister Kiki had hatched not long ago. She had mostly taken after her mother in color, with coral-pink skin, golden-orange hair, and teal-blue nose. However, her vivid sapphire-blue eyes were her father's. I'd heard from Acorn that her mother had been overjoyed to see a part of her lost husband passed on. Acorn had gone on to grumble that his colors were closer to his daddy's, aside from the light-blue eyes he'd inherited from his mother.

I'd been surprised by his resentful attitude, and tried my best to smooth things over. "Well, babies need a lot of care at first. But pretty soon she'll be grown up enough to play with you. The two of you will be good friends someday."

"Yeah, well…" He didn't seem happy to hear that, but then he straightened his little shoulders and smiled up at me. "Anyway, I'm glad that you're always happy to see me."

I felt an unexpected pang of empathy for the poor little guy; a fellow youngling abandoned by circumstances outside of our control. Even though it wasn't Hug Time, I opened my arms and Acorn leaped up into them, happily squishing his round little cheek against mine.

The frequent urge to hug my little buddy still caught me by surprise. I couldn't remember the last time I'd wanted to hug someone so often. Probably not since my time with Jaunty and Courtley, when I'd been relatively content, unaware of my foster dads' continuing deception.

I hadn't realized that I could ever miss being hugged, but apparently, I did. I'd managed to avoid hugging almost entirely during the time I'd lived in my own pod, two years ago. Currently, I had an agreement with Leafe that when his Hug Time bracelet went off, hugs were optional rather than required. Thankfully, compared to most other trolls, eighteen-year-old Leafe was not especially needy or demonstrative when it came to physical affection. He didn't mind foregoing hugs, usually. Neither did Cherry Blossom. Both of them were kind and gentle in a low-key sort of way; a marked difference from any other family I'd ever lived with. My life with Leafe ran calmly and smoothly for the most part, for which I was grateful.

But there were times I actually found myself missing my former foster dads' spontaneous hugs. It was a lot nicer to be hugged by someone who cared about me, instead of being glomped by some random troll when Hug Time came around.

I gave Acorn an affectionate squeeze before setting him down on his feet. "Well, I'm glad you come to see me, Lil' Nut. I need you. I'd really miss you if I couldn't see you."

He beamed at me. "I'd miss you, too, Big Oak."

-O-

"So then my foster brother, Twinkle Toes, was dancing on the table and he kicked a plate and it shot off the table- Bang! Right into the back of his father's head. Knocked him down and everything."

"Was his daddy okay?" Acorn looked scared.

I remembered how his own father had died. Hastily I waved my hands back and forth. "Oh, no, no, no, he was fine. It just really hurt. I gave Tee Tee a big scolding for it, though."

"Oh, good."

I put my hands on my hips. "Yeah. That's what I mean when I say that people don't pay enough attention to making sure things are safe. Acorn, what would you do if you wanted to dance on a table?"

"Um, clean it off first, so there's nothin' there to kick?"

I reached out and affectionately riffle my small friend's hair. "Right! Dancing is fine, but you should always clear enough space first, so you don't trip and break a leg, or kick something at someone. Taking the time to be prepared always pays off."

Acorn nodded. "Right. 'Safety First.' We want the people around us to be Safe and Healthy," he said, reciting the mantra I'd taught him.

"Exactly," I said approvingly. "That's the right way to think."

It pleased me to see that unlike the other trolls, Acorn paid close attention to everything I said. I deeply enjoyed teaching him the truly important things in life, like how to be self-sufficient. We often took short camping trips to nearby forest glens outside the village, glens I patrolled regularly to make sure there were no dangerous creatures around. Acorn and I would pitch a tent, gather food, do some fishing, build a fire, and cook over it. We gathered supplies, too, both for ourselves, and sometimes for other trolls.

We used engineering skills as well, from the concept and planning stages onward. I taught him all about tools, and how to choose the right tool for the job. I even made him his own set of tools, smaller and lighter, to fit his little hands. He loved them and used them all the time to help me, or work on his own little projects.

I felt good about myself these days, practically preening at the admiration in Acorn's eyes. At times, I'm sure I crossed the line into self-important arrogance, but I didn't realize that he was picking up more from me than just science, safety, and basic bergen theory. I didn't think about the attitude I was projecting, or the example I was setting. Not until it was too late.

For example, I never sang, and Acorn knew it. He never sang when he was around me, either. I didn't really think about it much, until I learned from Leafe that he'd stopped singing at school, and had even begun to discourage his classmates from singing. It caused quite a kerfuffle, apparently, although when Leafe talked to me about it, I just shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt them to sing a little less and study a little more, would it?"

Then one day as we were heading out to do some berry-picking, Acorn began telling me about a conversation he'd had the day before at school.

"-and so I told him he was stupid to think like that and that he should-"

"Wait, you told someone they were stupid?"

"Well, yeah. He was."

I was a little shocked to hear him say that so matter-of-factly. "It's not very nice to call someone stupid."

He looked surprised. "It's not? But you do, all the time. You're always complaining about the dumb things people do."

Now I was really shocked. "I… I don't…"

I fell silent. Is that what I sound like? Usually I'm so caught up in righteous indignation that I never think about it, but… Um.

Finally I said awkwardly, "Well, you really shouldn't say things like that to people."

"Why?"

"I told you, it's not nice."

"Why isn't it nice?" he asked me, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Isn't it a good thing to tell somebody that they're thinkin' wrong, so they can think the right way instead?"

"I, uh... Well…" I felt my face heat up. "Hm. I guess…it's one thing to educate people, but it's another to insult them. If we want them to listen to what we have to say, we need to treat them with respect," I said slowly, working it out in my head as I went.

Acorn nodded, his own eyes big and respectful.

It made me add ruefully, "I shouldn't call people names, either. I-I didn't realize how bad I sound…." I trailed off thoughtfully, then added, "You know what, I'm going to try to pay more attention to how I talk from now on. There are better ways to get people's attention than calling them names."

"Okay. Me, too."

"You might want to apologize for calling him stupid, too."

"I will." He reached out to me and I took his little hand in mine. We started walking down the path, a contented look on his face.

Unfortunately, I wasn't quite so contented. I can't believe my sweet little Acorn told someone they were stupid. What's that saying about how trollings reflect our own attitudes back at us? And that sometimes we may not like what we see?

Thinking the "right way…" Now that I hear it, it does sound kind of… Um. I mean, my foster dads taught me that since people are so different from each other, there is no single "right way" for everybody to be. Not all the time. Of course, they probably mostly said that because I was so different from everybody else and they didn't want me to feel bad, but still. It just sounds wrong to hear Acorn talking like that. And I know exactly who to blame.

I didn't say much for the rest of the day, uneasily wondering what other bad habits Acorn might have picked up from me. I recalled Leafe telling me that Acorn had caused some kind of problem at school. How long has this been going on? What if Acorn drives away all of his friends? What if he becomes an outsider…like me?

In the days that followed, I was more subdued than I had been in a while. Some of my newly acquired confidence had evaporated, replaced by my old companions; anxiety and brooding. It didn't help when I realized that my nemesis was only a few weeks away.

Trollstice. Worst. Holiday. Ever.

Author's Note:

Survivor's guilt is a real thing, with long-lasting repercussions. Both Branch and Acorn have it. Acorn was ultimately able to let go and move on in the end, though. Partly due to Branch's understanding, and partly due to later events that I'll go into in the next chapter. Poor Branch, unfortunately, never got that healing until twelve years later during the events of the first movie.

Something I want to mention is how Branch's life and attitude got better when he took positive action. He felt more in control of things. More committed. Instead of life happening TO him, he was the one making things happen. He'd gone from having a victim's mentality to someone purposefully pursuing a goal, even if that goal was just to enjoy life with Acorn.

It doesn't have to be a grand dream, as long as you're doing something you want to do, and you get something out of it. Life is really about enjoying the little pleasures, which is something the rest of the trolls instinctively seem to understand. It wasn't until Branch began thinking about Acorn's happiness that he began to enjoy life himself. Many adults forget what it's like to just…be, in the moment, as children do. Maybe that's one reason people become parents. Or artists, or fanfic writers… 😊