Sorry, kinda short chapter today.
Sleep — though fleeting and imperfect — was the first true reprieve Branch had felt since arriving in this impossible forest. The aching in his chest dulled to a steady throb, and though the dried tears still clung to the sides of his face like forgotten stains, he was grateful for the numbness that came with unconsciousness.
His breath rose and fell in slow rhythm, his arms curled tightly around his body, clutching the locket to his chest as if the memory within could ward off the nightmares circling just outside the veil of dreams.
The fire had long since burned down to embers.
The warmth was gone, but his body was too tired to care.
The cave was quiet — the kind of quiet that made sleep easy, but rest uneasy.
He shifted in his sleep, turning over slightly, his head resting now against a curve of smooth stone.
And then… the ground rumbled.
It was subtle at first — a deep, slow vibration that barely stirred the leaves beneath him. But something in it felt wrong.
Branch's eyes opened slowly, the haze of sleep still clinging to his vision. His mind took longer to catch up, reluctant to return to alertness, but the low thrum beneath him continued. His brows knit together as he slowly sat up, blinking blearily into the dark.
Then came the smell.
It hit him like a wall — foul, thick, and suffocating — like meat left to rot in the sun and decay beneath stagnant water. The air shifted around him, heavier now, each breath carrying with it a pungent sourness that forced his stomach to turn.
He rubbed his nose, gagging slightly, and rose to his feet.
That was when he heard it — the subtle crack of shifting stone.
The walls began to move.
Slow, deliberate, grinding against one another like molars.
His heart dropped into his stomach as realization sank in like cold lead.
The cave was closing.
Or rather — it was never a cave.
The walls pressed inward, jagged formations sliding into one another as the entrance began to fold shut. Large stone-like fangs emerged from the edges, locking downward like teeth, sealing tight to form the outline of a maw.
Branch's eyes widened in horror, his body frozen for only a second before instinct tore through the fog of sleep and shoved him into action.
He shoved his gear into his pack without precision, abandoning the leaf blanket entirely, and sprinted toward the entrance — now narrowing with each second. The floor tilted beneath him, the world shifting and heaving as if the stone were breathing, preparing for a swallow.
He didn't scream — there was no time — only the sound of his ragged breath and pounding heart as he threw his body forward, rolling across the ground and squeezing through the final slit of an opening just as the "cave" snapped shut behind him with a resounding slam.
Dust exploded outward.
The air pulsed.
Branch tumbled onto the dirt outside, his side scraped, lungs heaving as he coughed violently, spitting out the foul taste of whatever noxious fumes clung to the false shelter.
He turned back, eyes narrowing.
The cave was gone.
In its place stood a massive, rounded shape of rock-like flesh, smooth and mottled with patches of moss and cracks. In the center, where the entrance had been, a massive grin formed — tooth-lined and wet — before it sank slowly into the earth, disappearing into the ground as though it had never been there at all.
Branch sat in stunned silence, chest rising and falling, hands trembling as the last of the adrenaline burned through his system.
His eyes were wide, mouth parted slightly, every sense still caught in the echo of near-death.
He wiped the dirt from his face with the back of his hand, heart hammering against his ribs as he stared at the empty space where he had nearly become dinner in his sleep.
"Survival Log, Entry Two; Day Two," he muttered under his breath, voice raspy and low, "Take a mental note — never trust anything in this forest. Not caves. Not rocks. Not anything."
Branch pulled himself to his feet, every limb aching with exhaustion and the aftermath of adrenaline, his breath shallow as he adjusted the pack around his shoulders. His clothes were damp with sweat and streaked with earth, the moss clinging to the edges of his vest, and his boots felt heavier than they should have — weighted more by dread than mud.
He wiped a hand down his face, smearing grime across his cheek as he let out a low, annoyed breath.
"Well, this is going great."
His fingers worked to re-secure the straps across his chest, adjusting the tension along his belt and checking the knife at his side. His equipment had survived the ordeal better than he had, though just barely. He ran one last check — communications device functional, flares intact, knife sharpened — but there was one glaring absence.
His ration pouch was empty.
Not just low. Empty.
He checked twice, hoping maybe something had been caught in the folds — a wrapper, a crumb, even a stick of dried something — but there was nothing.
"Wonderful."
With no other choice, he continued forward, eyes low, movements slow and deliberate as the hunger in his gut curled tighter with every step.
He brought the communicator up to his mouth and pressed the log function.
"Survival Log — Entry Three," he said, voice slightly strained. "Current objective: locate food. Rations depleted. Physical energy running low. Will attempt to identify edible flora. Location remains unregistered. Time appears to be shortly after sunrise."
He lowered the device and stepped into the brush again, the forest canopy stretching above him in painted hues of green and gold, the morning light spilling through the gaps in scattered streaks. Though the surroundings were beautiful — vibrant in a way that almost mocked him — they did little to ease the growing tightness in his stomach.
It wasn't long before he came across his first patch of plants — large bulbous stalks with translucent skin that pulsed faintly in the light. He bent down and tapped one, watching the way it shivered under his touch.
"Gary, scan this," he muttered.
A few seconds passed before the device replied.
[Analysis complete… Flora is classified as non-edible. Ingestion will result in hallucinations… internal swelling… and respiratory failure…]
Branch stared at the stalk in silence, then straightened with a sigh.
"Moving on."
The next plant looked promising — large leaves, purple fruit clustered near the base, a smell faintly reminiscent of sugar. He crouched beside it, plucked one of the berries, and held it to the scanner.
"Gary?"
[Caution — fruit is highly acidic... May dissolve internal lining upon consumption…]
He didn't respond. He simply dropped the fruit and walked away.
What followed was an entire stretch of time that blurred together into a miserable montage of false hope.
Spiny bulbs that inflated when touched. Vines that bled sap with a metallic scent. Root vegetables that screamed when pulled from the dirt. Everything seemed like it should be edible — in color, in form — but each was just another threat in disguise.
Every time, he scanned. Every time, Gary replied.
[Toxic...]
[Paralytic...]
[Will cause explosive diarrhea…]
His patience frayed with each failed attempt. His limbs grew heavier, his vision softer around the edges. Even walking became a task, every step feeling like it took just a little more than the one before it.
Eventually, he came upon a still puddle of water nestled between roots at the base of a tree. It wasn't clean, not by any stretch — faintly green, with flecks of silt and floating debris — but it was water. And at that moment, it was the only thing he hadn't been told might kill him.
He knelt beside it and dipped his hands in.
The coolness was a relief. The taste — bitter and earthy — was barely tolerable, but it was something. He took a few careful sips, each one settling with discomfort but no immediate rejection.
It was enough to keep him from collapsing. Barely.
He rolled over, laying flat beside the puddle, one arm draped across his stomach as it growled in protest. His breath came slow now, his body heavy with fatigue, every inch of him drained.
He reached for his communicator one last time.
"Survival Log — update," he whispered, voice low, thin. "Still no food. No viable flora. Energy reserves near empty. Motor functions degrading. Vision unstable. Time… mid-morning, I think."
His hand fell against the moss as he stared at the sky, the shapes above blending into one another, the colors bleeding at the edges like ink in water. His eyes began to close, too tired to stay open, too empty to fight.
"I might be done here," he breathed, the words barely escaping his lips, their sound fading into the stillness of the morning air.
"This is how I die," his voice was hoarse, worn thin from lack of use, and too quiet to carry past the trees.
"If anyone's listening… I could really use a hand." Just as was about to accept his fate, something soft landed in the palm of his hand.
With what little strength reamined, he turned his head to see a bright, plump fruit of some kind nestled gently in his hand. He never spared even a second of thought before he devoured the object in one sitting.
Juices dripped from his mouth, splashing over his person, as he took big gulps and enjoyed every single bite of the delicious heaven sent morsel. After he finished, he lied back down with a satisfied hum and a fully conscious mind.
He then realized what he'd done as he turned to his only companion, "Gary, please tell what you can about what I just ate. Irresponsibly, I might add."
[Analyzing… Analysis complete… Traces of fruit detected across subject's hand and mouth… Sample belongs to the Ericaceae family… Nutritional profile consistent with known edible berries… Conclusion: may be safe for consumption…]
Branch let out a slow, shaky breath as the words filtered through the speaker, relief washing over him in brief, fleeting waves. His shoulders dropped, tension momentarily eased, though a tired scowl quickly replaced any comfort he might've felt. He stared at the communicator for a second longer, jaw clenched, before lifting a hand and slapping himself across the cheek with a muted smack.
"Phew," he muttered, almost annoyed at himself. "Brilliant move, genius. Just eat the mystery fruit without thinking. Real professional."
He gave himself another slap — firmer this time — and groaned as he shook the fatigue from his head. His legs trembled slightly, his breath coming uneven, but the surge of adrenaline had not yet let him go. With a few short hops, he bounced in place, trying to force his blood to keep moving.
"Get your act together, man," he said under his breath, as if he needed to hear the words aloud to make them true. "You want to keel over and die out here? Alone? Miserable? Some pathetic bloated body for something to snack on later?"
He slapped both cheeks again, the gray skin now beginning to sting with the imprint of his own fingers.
"Didn't you promise to overcome everything? That no matter what happened, you'd keep going?"
His fists tightened at his sides, and despite the soreness lacing through his limbs, he stood a little taller, his chest lifting with a strained breath. His voice rose with a shaky conviction.
"Come on! I can still take more than this!"
For a moment, he felt like he could keep going. He raised both arms above his head, letting out a strained, almost celebratory shout as if declaring victory over the moment — over the doubt, over the hunger, over the pain. It wasn't much, but it was something.
That sense of control, however, lasted only a second.
Beneath his boots, the ground began to shift — not dramatically, but in a slow, measured slither. Something coiled underfoot. Branch stilled mid-step, the confident fire in his chest flickering to silence as his gaze drifted downward.
The roots he had been standing on twisted, almost lazily, revealing their true form.
The bark peeled, the moss slipped, and what had once been the base of a tree was now a massive, snake-like creature unraveling itself from the forest floor. Its body was fuzzy and bright yellow with random spots along the length which was long and coiled like a rope pulled too tight for too long. Cold, glinting eyes blinked at him once — unamused, unimpressed — and then narrowed.
Branch's expression flattened.
"Son of a—"
The hiss cut him off, sharp and heavy as it blasted against his face.
He ran.
No thought, no planning — just pure instinct. He turned heel and bolted, his scream ripping from his lungs as he hurled himself through the trees. The brush scratched at his arms, branches slapped against his shoulders, and still he kept going, dodging roots, hurdling fallen trunks, weaving through the overgrowth in blind desperation.
Behind him, the serpent slithered through the wild with unnatural grace, its massive body gliding effortlessly over the terrain. For every step Branch stumbled through, the creature moved with purpose, tracking his scent, his sound, every subtle movement through the air.
The forest came alive with the chase — creatures stirred in their hollows, startled birds scattered in waves above the canopy, and somewhere deeper in the shadows, eyes turned to witness the sound of chaos moving through the trees.
Branch's lungs burned, his legs screamed beneath him, and his vision began to blur from the strain. His steps lost rhythm, his focus buckled, and with one misjudged pivot, his shoulder slammed into a thick tree trunk. The impact sent him tumbling backward, his body crashing into the ground with a hard thud that knocked the wind clean from his chest.
He gasped, blinking up at the leaves above, stunned. Pain radiated from his ribs and his side. He had no time to recover. The hiss came again — closer, sharper. The serpent was above him now, its mouth unhinging as it crept closer, ready to strike.
But then came something else.
A different sound. A deep gurgle from within. Branch froze, confused for a split second before realization crept across his face.
His stomach began to churn.
It twisted and tightened, a violent knot pulling from within as he doubled over, groaning through clenched teeth. A hot wave of nausea hit him like a storm, spreading from his core to the tips of his limbs. Dizziness followed. His balance faltered. His vision spiraled in dizzy loops.
Then came the spots.
Blue — vibrant, unnatural — blooming across his skin like ink dropped in water. They spread quickly, covering his arms, his face, even down to his fingers.
The snake lunged, jaws wide.
Branch didn't have time to scream. Not before his body bloated, puffing outward in a flash of pressure and swelling. He expanded like an overfilled balloon, every limb rounding out until he was no longer something that could be swallowed.
Instead, he slammed into the serpent's jaw, jamming its throat and cutting off its breath in an instant.
The beast reeled, choking on its prey as it twisted and thrashed, trying to force him down — or force him out — but failed at both. Its massive body slammed into trees and rocks, trying to shake loose the obstruction, but the damage had been done.
Its movements slowed.
Then stopped.
The forest fell quiet once more.
Branch remained stuck in the creature's open mouth, groaning in discomfort, bloated, immobile, and thoroughly annoyed by the absurdity of the situation.
He tried to shift, but his swollen body gave little room to move.
With a tired, irritated sigh, he muttered, "Gary, I thought you said the fruit was safe to eat."
[Correction… I mentioned that it 'may be safe for consumption'… Perhaps the user would wish to learn how to listen next time…]
Branch groaned louder this time, the weight of discomfort, embarrassment, and complete defeat settling heavily on him.
"Figures."
Branch let out a slow yawn, the kind that rolled through his chest and pulled at every muscle like a long, low sigh. Fatigue had finally caught up to him. His body sagged deeper into the curve of the serpent's slackened jaw, weighed down by the bloated discomfort still lingering from the fruit and the exhaustion from earlier.
His arms rested awkwardly against the creature's leathery interior, and though the position wasn't remotely comfortable, it was enough. The predator was dead. The chase was over. For now, that was all he needed.
His eyes blinked once. Then again. Heavy lids refused to stay open any longer. He let the weight of his body settle, and with one last breath, Branch closed his eyes and slipped into sleep without resistance.
Beneath him, nestled close to the soil and debris near the edge of the scene, Gary remained quietly active. Its interface pulsed faintly, internal sensors still engaged in passive scanning as it maintained its watch over the surrounding environment. The sudden spike in its proximity feed triggered an immediate shift in its processing cycle.
[Alert… Unknown lifeform detected nearby… Direction: northwest… Distance: fifteen meters and closing…]
There was movement in the brush — a low, rustling sound, faint but deliberate. The undergrowth parted just slightly, enough to indicate the approach of something not entirely small. Gary's tone sharpened with urgency.
[Attempting to alert the user… Ping*… Ping*…]
Branch did not stir. His body remained limp, slouched against the coiled remains of the serpent, too deep in unconsciousness to register anything around him.
[No response detected… Initiating deterrent protocol… Executing auditory warning...]
A sharp, distorted noise burst through the air — high-pitched and uneven, weaving through different tones and frequencies. The sound flickered between a shrill warning and a mechanical pulse, echoing through the trees like the alarm of something artificial and out of place.
The rustling did not cease.
If anything, the movement became more focused — the brush shifted rhythmically as the source of the sound grew nearer, not startled, not alarmed, but curious.
[Auditory deterrent ineffective… Escalating response… Switching to visual output… Deploying light array…]
Panels on Gary's outer casing slid open with a soft whir as thin beams of multicolored light emerged and cast across the clearing. Shades of red, blue, green, and gold scattered in rhythmic bursts, dancing over bark and moss with a carefully timed pattern.
The light pulsed in sequence, forming lines and arcs meant to confuse or warn off wildlife — a standard procedure against territorial or predatory behavior.
Still, the approach did not slow.
[Subject remains undeterred… Behavior suggests continued interest… Monitoring behavior patterns… Risk level: undetermined…]
The bushes parted more clearly now, and a figure emerged into the edge of the clearing. It was small, upright — not large enough to be threatening, but too steady in movement to be dismissed. Soft hair framed a rounded face, and large eyes blinked with slow attentiveness as the being stepped into the reach of Gary's light.
It paused for only a second, seemingly unfazed by the ongoing visual display, before stepping even closer. Its gaze did not wander to the device or the lights it cast — it was fixed entirely on the sight before it.
The serpent's body, now lifeless and slack. And more specifically — the strange, bloated figure resting awkwardly inside its jaws.
Branch.
The stranger's head tilted ever so slightly. A soft, almost melodic hum escaped their lips, the kind of sound one makes when trying to puzzle something out, or when met with something unusual and not immediately dangerous.
Gary's optics adjusted. The lights slowly dimmed as the entity moved within one meter of the unit's proximity field.
[Warning… User is unconscious… Biological vitals remain stable… Unauthorized presence is not advised… Identify yourself...]
The figure didn't respond immediately to the demand. Instead, they continued forward with careful steps, their eyes never leaving Branch's slack form. Their expression shifted only slightly — not in fear, but in growing curiosity. They knelt slowly beside the serpent, bringing their face just close enough to examine him clearly, one hand gently brushing against the serpent's scales near his side.
Then came the voice. Soft. Measured. Barely above a whisper, but clearly spoken.
"…Pretty."
A quiet mumble slipped from Branch's lips, low and groggy, barely forming words.
"…Gramma…? Don't touch that, it's still hot…"
His brow furrowed, shifting slightly where he lay, his limbs twitching with small, delayed reactions. The soft pull of motion beneath him gradually registered, his body rocking gently with each movement, and the world felt like it was sliding past without his consent.
"…Thought I told you not to eat that… it's got raisins…"
He blinked — slow at first, his eyes still heavy from sleep, vision blurred and colorless until the light returned. The weight of his body felt less bloated now, but stiff from being pressed into something not quite flat. He tried to stretch, only for the sensation of tugging at his scalp to halt him entirely.
"What the…?"
Branch groaned, eyes blinking fully awake as the blur of motion and light stabilized. He could feel something dragging him — literally dragging him — across the forest floor. The ground was soft, the leaves brushing against his sides, but his head was tilted back uncomfortably.
He craned his neck, squinting past his own shoulders.
"Gary…" he rasped, voice dry. "What's happening…?"
[Update: An unidentified presence approached while the user was unconscious… Initial deterrent measures failed… Subject is currently in direct contact with the user's person… You are, at present, being dragged to an unknown location…]
Branch blinked again, the haze finally clearing from his vision as a new sense of awareness set in.
"…Dragged?" he repeated, still not fully processing. "What do you mean, dragged—"
[Clarification available: See for yourself…]
With effort, Branch shifted his gaze upward, eyes trailing toward the faint tug at his head — only to freeze when he saw the answer plainly before him.
A pair of small hands, delicate but firm, were clutching a thick handful of his hair and pulling him steadily across the forest floor without urgency or hesitation.
His jaw slowly dropped, disbelief washing across his face as his body scraped along the grass and moss like a sack of potatoes.
"Hey! What are you—" Branch shouted, his voice cracking from the sudden shock of movement.
The abrupt sound startled the figure ahead. She immediately let go of his hair, and his head dropped with a soft thud against the mossy ground. He grunted, wincing as the jolt ran up the back of his skull.
Rubbing the sore spot, Branch looked up toward the figure, squinting against the sunlight that framed her form. Her outline was blurred by the rays peeking through the canopy, casting a soft glow around her as his eyes struggled to adjust.
Branch squinted against the sunlight as his eyes adjusted, finally getting a clear look at the figure standing before him. She was small and bright, her skin a soft pink with cheeks that shimmered faintly, almost like they were dusted with glitter. Her bountiful hair — a deeper shade of pink styled in a high ponytail with a blue flower headband.
She's wearing a short, light blue dress with a cutout at the chest, fluffy white leg warmers, and chunky pink platform shoes. She has a playful expression, winking with a hand on her hip, radiating a cheerful, bubbly vibe.
She looked down at him, concern evident on her face.
"Oh my troll, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
Her voice was soft and clear, carrying a kind of warmth that caught him off guard. From the tone alone, he could tell she was a girl — but the moment he tried to form words, nothing came out. His thoughts stalled, tripped over the cadence of her voice and the light reflecting off her hair.
Thankfully, Gary stepped in to fill the silence.
[Alert… User's vitals elevated… Analyzing deviation from baseline… Possible cause: subject identified as female… Cross-referencing user's physiological response…]
A low mechanical hum followed as Gary ran its analysis, before continuing in its usual monotone.
[Conclusion: User appears to be experiencing a hormone-induced—]
"Shut up, Gary!" Branch snapped, slapping the side of the device to cut the feed before it could finish that sentence.
With an exasperated groan, he pushed himself off the ground, brushing away dirt and bits of crushed leaves as he rose into a crouch. His posture shifted instinctively, defensive and guarded, as he faced the stranger with narrowed eyes.
"Who are you?" he asked, more seriously this time. "Why were you dragging me?"
The girl blinked, and then smiled — not out of guilt, but amusement. She folded her hands behind her back and leaned forward slightly, as if inspecting a curious little creature.
"You're kind of adorable when you're grumpy," she said with a lighthearted chuckle.
Branch's face turned a vivid shade of red, his expression twisting between flustered and offended.
"I—I'm not— This isn't—" Branch stammered, his hand slicing through the air in an attempt to physically wave the awkwardness away. With a sharp shake of his head, he drew in a breath, trying to reset his scattered thoughts. "Just answer the question!"
The girl straightened up with ease, still wearing that bright-eyed, chipper expression. Her head tilted slightly, as if she were sizing him up not out of suspicion, but genuine curiosity.
"Alright, alright, no need to get your follicles in a twist," she replied, flashing a grin so wide it practically sparkled.
Then, with no warning, she thrust her hand out and grabbed his — not gently, not cautiously, but with the unbridled enthusiasm of someone who had never once considered the concept of personal boundaries.
"I'm Poppy!" she chirped, giving his arm a vigorous shake that jolted his entire body like he was caught in a blender. "It's so nice to meet you!"
Branch's eyes spun slightly as she finally let go, his knees wobbling as he struggled to steady himself.
"I— what— can you not do that again?" he muttered, brushing himself off and backing up a step.
Poppy barely noticed his distress. "Sorry! I just got really excited. I mean, you're awake! That's great news!"
Branch blinked, his brow twitching. "Wait — back up. You found me?"
Poppy nodded rapidly. "Yup! You were all passed out and stuck in the mouth of that gross snake thing, and I was like, 'Whoa!' So I ran over and checked, and you were still breathing — thank goodness — so I figured I'd bring you back to the village and have our doctor take a look at you!"
His face scrunched. "Okay, first off… that doesn't explain why you were dragging me halfway across the forest by my hair."
"Oh!" Poppy gasped, then giggled sheepishly. "Sorry about that. It was the only part of you sticking out that I could grab. And I didn't want to, you know, poke around while you were unconscious."
Branch groaned and ran a hand down his face. "Unbelievable."
"But hey," she added, perking up again, "you're totally fine now! And once we get to the village, we'll make sure you're extra fine."
He stiffened. "Village? What village?"
Poppy puffed out her cheeks, then blew a playful raspberry. "The village! You know, the one we all live in? With the bridges, and the snack tree, and the big flower plaza?"
Branch stared at her, visibly thrown off by the non-answer.
"…We?"
Poppy's smile grew. "Yeah! We! As in, me, my friends, my family — everyone!"
Branch took a step back, brow still furrowed. "Okay… what even are you?"
She let out a delighted laugh, then started bouncing in a circle around him, arms swinging.
"I'm a Troll, silly! Just like you!"
He blinked hard. "I'm sorry, what."
"Well, kind of like you," she added, pausing mid-hop to point at him. "You're, uh… a little more gray than I've ever seen. Maybe you're a late bloomer. Don't worry! My Dad knows everything. He'll know what's going on for sure!"
Branch's eyes widened, his mouth slightly open as he tried to form some kind of response, but before he could, Gary came to life again — its screen pulsing softly, tone heavier than before.
[Species identified… Trolls… Genetic classification: non-human, sapient… Unique characteristics: variable pigmentation, bioluminescence in rare strains, vocal modulation potential… Confirming species presence… Advancing mission stage to Phase Two… Recording data… Upload suspended… Connection unavailable… Entering standby mode…]
The device let out a mechanical chime before powering down again, the small screen flickering into silence.
Branch's mouth stayed half-open. "…What?"
"Ooooh, what did that little thing say?" Poppy asked, eyes wide with wonder as she crouched down to inspect Gary, poking at its casing with a single finger, her expression beaming with delight.
Branch's entire body jerked forward in alarm. "Don't touch that!" he snapped, voice sharp. "Or me. Just… don't."
Poppy froze, blinking as her smile shifted into a look of amused curiosity. She tilted her head, one brow raised, her hands lifting off the device in a casual show of surrender.
"Okay, okay," she said, clearly unbothered by his reaction. Then her grin crept back in. "But… who's me?"
Branch stared at her, brow knitting. "…What?"
"You said 'don't touch me,'" she clarified, poking the air in front of his chest. "So, who's me?"
Branch let out a quiet groan, rubbing the side of his face. "Seriously?"
Poppy just kept smiling at him, her eyes bright and completely unphased.
He hesitated, then muttered under his breath, "Branch."
"Branch," she repeated, testing the name on her tongue like it was the punchline to a joke she hadn't heard yet. Then she nodded to herself, satisfied. "Alright. Grumpy, gray, weird little forest troll has a name. That's progress."
He scowled. "Would you stop saying things like that?"
She shrugged, still grinning. "Only if you stop acting like it's not true."
Branch clenched his jaw, already regretting waking up.
He was at a loss on what to do, but the look on his face caught Poppy's attention. "Hey~ Anybody home?" She waved her hand before his eyes to bring him back to the now.
"I'm sorry, what?" Branch blinked, staring at her with the face of someone trying to decipher a language that shouldn't exist.
"Oh, I know what'll cheer you up!" Poppy said, eyes lighting up before he could get a word in. She grabbed his hand again — tighter this time — and before Branch could even flinch, her hair shot up into the canopy like a coiled spring, wrapping itself around a sturdy branch above them.
"How are you—" he began, but the words didn't get the chance to land.
Because they were already airborne.
Poppy launched them both from the forest floor, soaring through the air as her hair recoiled and flung them from one branch to the next. The canopy blurred past in streaks of green and gold, the wind howling against their ears as gravity tried its best to throw them back down.
While Poppy whooped with pure exhilaration, laughing as she swung them faster and faster like it was the best ride in the world, Branch's voice cracked in the opposite direction.
"AAAHHH!" he screamed, his arms flailing like a marionette with half-cut strings.
His stomach lurched with every arc, his vision jostled with each swing, and his limbs stiffened with growing nausea. Eyes squeezed shut, he tried to center himself, to block it all out — the wind, the momentum, the impending doom.
But instead, all he could feel was the softness of Poppy's hand still clasped in his.
There was warmth in her grip — not overwhelming, but noticeable enough that it crawled along his spine like a subtle current. He grimaced harder, trying to force the feeling away. Focus. Anything else. He'd rather stare death in the eyes than linger on that sensation a second longer.
"Here we go!" Poppy called out cheerily.
Her hair suddenly retracted, and with nothing left to hold them aloft, they dropped.
Branch's eyes snapped open just in time to see the ground rushing up toward him.
"Oh no no no no—!"
Poppy twirled midair, her hair blooming outward into a makeshift parachute. She floated down with perfect poise, landing softly on a cushion of grass like she'd done it a hundred times before.
Branch, on the other hand, slammed into the ground with a heavy THUMP.
A puff of dirt rose up around him as his body embedded slightly into the earth, arms and legs splayed in a disjointed sprawl. He groaned, his breath wheezing from his lungs, his face pressed against the soil.
He didn't move for a moment. Just groaned again.
"…I swear this forest is trying to kill me."
He heard footsteps bounce toward him before Poppy's cheerful voice rang out just above.
"Why didn't you use your hair to land safely?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
Branch peeled his face off the ground, turning toward her with a squint. "What are you even talking about?"
But then something else caught his eye — something that made his expression freeze.
Behind her, just past the trees, the forest gave way to open land, and in the distance… something vast and colorful unfolded.
Poppy noticed his stunned silence and turned with a beaming smile. She stepped to the side and spread her arms wide.
"Welcome to Troll Village!"
Before them lay a vibrant landscape — cozy, handcrafted homes shaped from trees, mushrooms, flowers, and stones. Bridges of woven vines arched between platforms, and gentle streams wound through soft hills. The air shimmered with color, and the sounds of laughter and distant singing floated gently on the breeze. Dozens of Trolls, each as unique and vividly styled as Poppy, moved through the village, chatting, dancing, playing, living.
Branch stood there, mouth slightly agape.
"And of course," Poppy added with a light snort, "you already knew about the village, right? I mean, everyone does."
Branch didn't answer. His mind spun, trying to process the sheer surrealism of what he was looking at. What he'd heard. What she was.
He swallowed hard. What even is happening to me?
But that wasn't the question he truly feared.
What this pink blur of chaos had told him — that she was a Troll — and that somehow, he was now one too… that was the part that struck deeper than the fall.
Should he run? Confront her? Escape back into the woods and hope this was all some vivid delusion? Or maybe… stay? Learn more? Try to understand this bizarre new world?
He didn't know. He wasn't even sure what he felt.
But whatever expression he wore must've given something away, because Poppy leaned a little closer, brow creasing gently.
"Hey… are you doing okay? You're starting to look like a cupcake without its frosting."
Branch blinked slowly, the metaphor slapping across his brain like cold water.
"…I'm sorry, what?"
But she was already grinning again. And before he could protest, her hand slipped into his.
"Come on. I'll show you around."
Branch was unable to do anything, as he simply let this weird bundle of joy bring him along into a world that was no longer his own.
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