John Dory adjusted his backpack and pushed aside some foliage as he hiked. His legs were a little sore, but it was the good kind of burn. The kind that made him recognize that he had almost reached his physical limits, but he could go a little longer. He knew he had to rest soon. Not only did he need a break, but it was getting late and he wanted to set up camp before the sun set.
It had been a good day. He had accidentally found the perfect spot to sleep last night, so he woke up to the most beautiful sunrise. He was able to forage for a decent enough breakfast, with just one near-death experience accompanying it. Then he had started on his trek and heard the most interesting sounds and rhythms that gave him so many ideas for a new song. He didn't know what he would be writing the song for, but he was still excited about it.
He wasn't injured or sick like he was a lot of days since he had started wandering the wilderness. He was physically fit, so he was able to walk the Neverglade Trail for as long as he wanted to that day. It was thrilling and relaxing all at once.
When the sun set below the cliffs he was walking near, dousing his immediate surroundings in shade though there was still a fair bit of time until nightfall, John Dory finally stopped for the day. He stopped where he was, because this exact spot looked as good as any other spot in this area. He dropped his backpack on the ground and through his things to find some flint. He pulled out the critter he had caught and killed earlier this afternoon.
He didn't know what kind of critter it was, but food was food, and in the middle of nowhere one couldn't be picky. John Dory had wrapped the body in some fabric before putting it in his back, because he didn't want the rest of his things to smell like dead critter, but that was as much preparation as he had done.
He quickly gathered some sticks and within a few minutes got a fire going. He found a big rock and put it in the middle of the fire, being careful to not put it out. He wanted the flames to surround the rock, not be snuffed by it. He put the critter on the rock, and then sat down and let it cook.
There was probably a better way of doing this. John Dory was figuring this whole thing out as he went. That was just a theme in his life. He tried, he failed, and he tried again in a slightly different way. Sometimes he did better, sometimes he did way worse. Sometimes his new attempt somehow ended up just being a past attempt that was painted a different color.
When he was with his brothers, he felt like all of his failures were being put under a microscope. They always seemed to be waiting for him to screw up so they could throw it back in his face, no matter how small the offense was. And yet they wondered why he was reluctant to admit to them that he was ever wrong.
Messing up made him a bad person. If he was late picking his brothers up from school he was seen as a bad brother. If he defended his brothers from bullies then he was seen by the grown-ups as too aggressive. If he let Grandma borrow money for her gambling, then he was 'enabling her bad habits' or something, but if he didn't then he was accused of being greedy.
No matter what he did, or how hard he tried, he was always seen as a failure.
Out here messing up was just a part of life. If he did things wrong, nobody knew but him. He could try to do better tomorrow, and it was a refreshing breath of fresh air.
When there wasn't the pressure to be perfect, it was a lot easier to accept that he might never be. He was getting better, and he was content with that.
John Dory stretched as he waited for his food to cook. He was probably going to end up burning it. The taste was far from ideal, but he had berries that helped, and he would rather eat ash than wake up in the middle of the night because he was sick from undercooked food.
His legs didn't appreciate the stretches, but he knew that if he didn't do them then he would be in agony in the morning. He had to ease his body into rest.
He stretched for a good ten minutes before he got bored and decided that was probably good enough. He sat on the ground and pulled out his notebook. He had all kinds of things marked in there. Sometimes it was like a diary, making note of interesting things he'd seen that day. Sometimes he drew pictures, though he was far from a great artist. He wrote song lyrics and notes. He wrote down mistakes that he might have made during his travels so he would know what to avoid.
If he didn't write anything else down though, he always took note of the date. The days all blurred together out here, and he couldn't let himself lose track of time. He'd made a promise to his bros, and even if he was enjoying the time away from them he cared about them too much to break his word.
He'd been out here for almost a month. He had another month before they were supposed to get together for Grandma's birthday, and he had no intention of letting his brothers down.
He was looking forward to seeing them again, but a small part of him was nervous too. What if they hadn't missed him at all? What if they just fought again and nothing changed? Or what if everything changed and they all wanted him to come home?
He would if they wanted him to. Of course he would. They were his little bros. They were the most important trolls in his life. If they wanted him home, then he would come home without a second thought, even though he knew it would be hard to give up this freedom.
He didn't really know what he wanted. Did he want to stay out here indefinitely, not being responsible for anything except his own survival, even if it was a little lonely out here? Did he want everything to go back to the way they were before? Did he want to go home and have everything be completely different?
He didn't really want to think about it. He still had another month until it was something he even needed to think about, and he was going to enjoy every moment he had.
John Dory ate his dinner and decided against looking for shelter. He hadn't seen any signs of predators. The weather was clear, and he thought it wouldn't be too cold of a night. It would be nice to sleep under the stars.
He would need to start heading back to the Troll Tree within the next few days, but he would worry about that later. Right now he just wanted to enjoy the night.
As soon as Spruce had left the Troll Tree he had made his way to the ocean near Bergen Town. He'd never been there before, but John Dory had talked about it. He used to go camping a lot when they were kids, and every Trollstice, in an attempt to keep the little kids calm and quiet, John Dory would tell them about the different places he had seen.
Spruce had always been drawn to the stories about the ocean. It was odd to consider that there was an entire world out there besides the tree, and even Bergen Town. The thought of an ocean, where you could see the entire world in front of you, with water stretching out far to the horizon, it made the world feel impossibly large and it was thrilling.
Seeing the ocean was as exciting as he had always dreamed it would be. He could sit and stare at the water all day. That was actually what he did the first day, and when he saw a boat sailing out he jumped at the chance to go out there for himself. He didn't know where the boat was going, but he didn't really care.
The boat docked at an island. It was inhabited by beings that were about the size of a bergen. He didn't make a habit of getting up close and personal with bergens, so he didn't really know how they compared in size to Vacaytioners. All he knew was that both species were far bigger than him, and the Vacaytioners were much nicer than the bergens.
The locals were very kind and welcoming. He was a strange new species to them, but nobody gawked at him or made him feel like he was some fascinating and exotic creature or pet. He was just a visitor, and they treated him like they did any other.
The Vacaytioners went out of their way to make him food portions that fit him. A crafty young Vacaytioner made a bed for him to use, and he couldn't be more grateful.
They welcomed him here. Nobody asked about where he came from, or when he would leave. Nobody asked about his past or family. There was no judgement about why he was here and what he was running from. If Spruce wanted to talk about it, he knew many of the Vacaytioners would be more than happy to listen. They just weren't going to push it.
It was very relaxing on the island. Spruce was able to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to do it. There were no older brothers scrutinizing his every move, ready to call him out and correct everything he did. There were no little brothers that needed him to constantly hold their hands.
No schedules. No rehearsals. No stressful pressure to be perfect. All he needed to do was be himself and do what he wanted.
And he couldn't even do that right.
He had been here for a month and he couldn't properly relax. He didn't know what to do with all this free time and lack of pressure. All he could think about was that as nice as this island was, he wished his brothers were here. Everything he saw reminded him of them.
He wanted to introduce Floyd to the Vacaytioners. His little brother was always so trusting and trying to see the good in people. More than once he'd suggested that they all just try to talk to the bergens, and Spruce was terrified of what he might do when he was old enough to push past the fear of getting eaten. Floyd would probably love seeing for himself that just because a creature was bigger than them didn't mean they were necessarily dangerous.
Clay would probably get a kick out of the architecture on this island. He might want to see why these buildings had structural integrity when they were made of sand and were exposed to water constantly.
John Dory was always looking for new sounds and styles to incorporate into his songs. He would probably be fascinated by all of the rhythms and casual harmonies in the Vacaytioners' music. John Dory was such a tense troll, but even he would probably relax if he got the chance to collaborate on a song.
And Spruce longed to show Baby Branch the beautiful sunsets. He was able to find some freedom on this island, and Baby Branch deserved to see the beauty in the world, and not just the constant fear.
But thinking about his brothers was bittersweet. He was supposed to be getting a break from them out here, and yet he couldn't stop missing them.
He was feeling homesick, and it wasn't fair. Why should he be missing his home when he knew all too well just how much of a disaster it was? Their home was tearing their relationships apart, and destroying any self-esteem any of them might have. This was for the best for all of them.
He wanted his brothers, but he also wanted to be happy, and he didn't know how to do both.
He'd be going home in another month. Maybe by then they would all have calmed down enough to figure out where to go from here. Spruce hoped so. He would love to come together again and be a real family.
But he didn't know how that was supposed to happen. Even if they were all happier and more relaxed now, that didn't mean they would be if they started living together again. Spruce didn't think that John Dory had just been making things up when he had told Floyd that being apart would strengthen their relationships.
Maybe someday they would all reach a point in their personal growth where they could all be a family without tearing each other apart, but Spruce knew they weren't there yet, and he didn't know if they would be there in a month.
But how were they supposed to grow together if they weren't even talking to each other? Spruce didn't really know, and that uncertainty frightened him.
This was why he didn't want to think about his brothers. Everything was just too complicated, and he didn't have the right answers. John Dory was the one who always seemed to know how things were supposed to be. Clay was the one who saw solutions to problems. Floyd was the peacekeeper and optimist. Baby Branch was the one who kept trying, no matter how hopeless things seemed.
Spruce didn't have his brother's strengths. He didn't have a trait that contributed to the family in that way. He was just Spruce, and he wasn't even really sure who that was.
He needed to stop thinking about his brothers, as cruel a thought as that might seem. It was just stressing him out, and completely defeating the purpose of him coming all the way out here. He was on a beautiful island. He had a whole month until he needed to reunite with his brothers, and he should be taking every advantage of it.
He didn't know how he was going to do that, but he had to figure out how. What was the point in abandoning his family if he couldn't even find who he was in the process?