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He's the first to find her.
Somehow, he always is.
“Branchifer!” Poppy smiles at him, standing up from the rock she was sitting on, despite her leg burning at the contact with the ground, “so crazy to find you in the woods.”
"That's not my name."
“It’s called a nickname. You know trolls often give each other nicknames as a sign of friendship. And, I for one, classify us as friends, even if you seem to think differently,” Poppy talks fast, words spilling out of her mouth before she could even comprehend it. “For example, I gave you Branchifer, and in turn, you give me?”
She holds out her hands, spinning them in small circles, willing him to give her an answer.
He doesn't.
Instead, he pushes past her and continues to the forest behind her. Her smile falls and, without thinking, she turns to follow him, stepping straight towards the-
Ouch .
Pain tingles up her leg as she steps with her injured foot. She lets out a small, soft cry, returning to the rock she was sitting on before.
Poppy was amazing at a lot of things, but sometimes she got so lost in music and thought that she tended to forget to pay attention to her surroundings. Unfortunately, this is the first time she has fallen victim to that.
"Poppy?" Branch calls out, rushing back towards her , "What's happened?"
"I tripped on a rock, or maybe it was a root, or it was something," Poppy forced a smile. "I hurt my foot on my way here, walking through the forest."
"Which?"
She points to her right foot, and Branch grabs at it. Briefly, he examines it and, without any warning, gives it a slight squeeze.
Poppy winces.
Branch removes his bag from his back and brings out a small white and red container. He takes a small liquid vital from the container and, without warning again, applies it to the small gash.
Poppy winces again, " Ouch ."
The gash burns as he dabs it with a cloth. It was her first wound in a long time, and after not being used to it, it hurt a little more than Poppy would like.
She watches, fascinated, as he cleans it thoroughly. She had no idea that Branch knew anything like the Medic Trolls did, but she trusted him, without a doubt, that he could patch up a wound.
"You could be softer on it, you know."
"I wouldn't have to do anything if you had been paying attention." Branch rolled his eyes, observing his work, the gash is definitely less bloody than it was before.
"Well, there's a lot of rocks in the forest. How was I supposed to know which exact one would make my trip?"
"Well," he repeats, "What were you doing in the woods by yourself?"
“Are you keeping tabs on me, Branchifer?”
“Only to know where to avoid you” His words are harsh, but his touch is soft as he applies a little glaze to the gash.
“Don’t you mean find me? No wonder we always end up in the same place.”
“ Poppy.”
"I have two very valid reasons, actually," she responds with a satisfied smile, sometimes it was too easy to get under his skin. "First, I believe it's the first day of the season for the Gardenia flowers to bloom. I would love one for my garden."
Branch nods, wrapping Poppy's foot carefully in the white bandage. It reminds Poppy of a cast, and she wonders how long it would take to get him to sign it if it was a cast. Now, that would be a fun challenge.
"What's the second reason?" His voice is softer, more focused on his work than on her. Finishing the bangles, Branch carefully puts her foot back down. He puts his tools back in the container, everything organized and easily accessible.
"I was hoping you would come with me."
There's a slight pause in his movements, almost unnoticeable before he continues to put his tools away. He closes up the container and shoves it back in his bag. He stands, swinging his bag back on his shoulders, and Poppy's afraid Branch might leave her there in the woods, alone, now that he finished with her foot.
"What's so important about the flowers?"
“ I told you the Gardenia flowers are blooming and I would love one for my garden.”
He crosses his arms, giving her a blank stare.
She wants to give him half of the truth. Simple things she would tell her other friends. The flowers are just pretty, or she misses the sweet smell of them, or even that they are the only flowers that don't grow in the Troll village.
The sun is going down, and it casts a soft golden shine on Branch; and, despite the frown forming on his face, he looks ado-
Yeah, Poppy wasn't going to lie to Branch for something so simple.
“My dad used to take me. We would pack a picnic, and he would tell me stories about his past. It was the only times I had with him that made me feel like his kid and not a princess,” Poppy smiles softly at the memory, “and all of a sudden, he just stopped, with no warning or explanation.”
He stares at her, and, for a moment, Poppy wishes she could read what goes through his mind. His eyes are blank, but they seem to dart back and forth from her and the forest behind her.
"I'll be back," and he heads into the woods before Poppy could say another word, leaving Poppy all alone.
Poppy kicks the rocks with her good foot, slightly annoyed that Branch left her alone without an explanation. It feels like an eternity has passed by. The sun is almost gone, and the wind has picked up, brushing against the trees.
She murmurs a song under her breath, wanting to sing louder, but the feeling of being watched is strong. What kind of monsters were out there? How much of what Branch warned them of is true versus exaggeration?
She believed him, of course, but the little voices of her friends always ran in the back of her mind. The comments on how unlike and weird Branch is from the other trolls.
A long stick clouds her view of the rocks. She looks up, and Branch hands it to her without a word.
She takes it gladly. Using the stick, she stood back up, not feeling the enormous amount of weight on her foot that she did before. Branch stands on her other side, far enough where they won't touch but close enough where he could catch her if she falls.
Poppy doubts she will fall, as the stick does help, but the sentiment is welcoming.
Following Poppy's directions, they head towards the meadow, getting lost here and there as she tries to remember where the small meadow is.
Poppy, feeling a lot safer with Branch around, talks the whole way. She tells him about her day, about her friends and their adventures. Adventures she had invited him to join, ones he always declined. Poppy thinks hearing about them would help Branch want to experience these things with her- with their friends. And maybe he could learn that being friends with Poppy isn't as bad as he thinks it is.
She does attempt to sing a few songs, even getting halfway into some of them, But Branch always shuts her down.
Or, scares her into shutting up.
"Sh," Branch held up one finger to his lips, "I hear something."
Poppy stops singing immediately, listening with Branch as they continue forward. She waits a few seconds, and then a few seconds more, and then a few-
“There’s nothing there, is there?”
“Maybe.”
She rol ls her eyes and talks more, if not even a little louder, just to annoy him a bit more.
After a while, when the darkness of the night has completely engulfed them, they reached the meadow, and its-
Well, it's simply breathtaking.
When she was young, everything felt enormous, like she wasn’t a part of the world she walked through. Now, she saw everything the way she was meant to, and it was hard to see things she used to look differently now.
The meadow, as beautiful as it was, was an amazing example of that.
It’s smaller. The bushes crowded each other, overgrown and uncared for. It hid the flowers they grew. The few flowers that managed to poke out through the bushes, pinks and blues and whites, glowed even brighter.
“I’m here,” it said, “I’m here.”
Mainly, the meadow was green. Grass covered the ground, tall and wild, some even reaching past her waist. It makes it hard to walk with the stick, but it doesn’t stop Poppy. She won’t stop until -
There.
Almost hidden in the bushes a few feet in front of her. She smiles, and it reaches from ear to ear.
Letting go of the stick, Poppy runs to the flower.
Pain flows throughout her body, but so does energy, the excitement of finally seeing the flower after such a long time.
She stops right in front of one, gently touching the white petals of the Gardenia. The petals are almost thin but soft, so incredibly soft. It spirals in layers, so similar to a rose, but the pedals are more spaced out.
“You’d think your favorite flower would be Poppy’s, and yet here you are with Gardenia’s.”
“They’re actually my second favorite. [holiday flower] are my favorite,” she pulls the Gardenia off its stem gently, “even though I'm allergic to them.”
He’s standing beside her, and she turns to face him.
She holds out the flower with her right hand, presenting it to him, and he takes it in his. His touch lingers for a moment until he draws back.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” She asks.
“Very,” his voice is soft, and he doesn’t stop looking at her.
“Have you ever made a wish on a flower?”
“No.”
She pulls another Gardenia off its stem, “Follow me.”
Her foot throbs as she walks further down the meadow. But it’s worth the trouble when she sees the river. The water is running swiftly through the rocks, and it's a wonderful melody to her ears.
She kneels by the edge of the lake. Looking in, she could see a blurry reflection of herself, and she wondered where the time had gone.
Poppy holds the flower to her face. She whispers into it so quietly that no one, not even the bugs, could hear her except for the flower. She then lays the flower gently into the water, watching as it takes it down the stream.
She nudges him, and Branch follows her movements.
He doesn’t place the flower in the water as softly, and the ripples run across the river until a wave intercepts it.
“What’d you wish for?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“A wish spoken aloud doesn’t come true.”
She looks back down the river. Oddly, their flowers have found each other, drifting off together as one. The further they got, the more and more she couldn’t tell where one flower ends and the other begins.
Her foot still throbs, and so she moves away just a bit from the river and lies on the ground, staring up at the night sky. She could still see some of the wild bushes in the corners of her vision, slightly blocking the sky. Somehow, it made the sky even more captivating than before. The sky and the ground were finally together, seemingly impossible but fated to occur.
"Truth or dare?"
She's been obsessed with the game, playing it daily with her friends. The other day, she had gotten Biggie to jump into a lake infested with tickling fishes. And, the other day she even got Satin and Chenille to wear seven layers of black clothing, their worst fear. She had even gotten Creak to-
"Really?" Branch breaks the silence, sounding bored and annoyed. If she could see his face, Poppy was sure he would have that adorable scowl, like always.
She hears a slight rustling, and then he is lying down beside her. Warmth radiates off him. He is close, so close that he could almost feel him touching her. She wonders if he is as soft to touch as other trolls are.
"Just answer the question."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't play games," he huffs, "especially not with you."
She copies his huff, “You’re stuck here with me until I’m ready to leave, so you might as well just answer the question."
“I could leave you here if I wanted to”
“But you wouldn’t,” she shoved his shoulder, although it was a bit harder to do laying on the grass. The movement keeps them close, and it ignites Poppy when his arm touches her, sparks moving throughout her whole body.
"Answer the question and-" she contemplates her options, "-and I'll leave you alone for a whole week."
“Just a week?”
“More than you would get if you don’t play the game with me. I’m not afraid to bother you every single day for a whole week.”
She watches the stars above them, the way they twinkle beautifully in the sky. The stars clumped together in groups and seemed to shine brighter than Poppy had ever seen them before.
Even stars, surrounded by eternal darkness, were never lonely.
He shifts beside her, turning his head in her direction. Poppy sees him from the corner of her eye, but keeps her gaze on the stars above, untrusting herself to meet his eye.
“Truth,” he says finally.
“What are you scared of the most?”
“Simple answer?”
“Long answer.”
His gaze returns to the sky, and in turn, her gaze rests on him.
“I’m scared of being alone,” he pauses, breathing in slowly and steadily. The slow exhales are visible in the night's cold air. “It feels like- I feel like I’m destined to be alone when every other troll is meant to be surrounded.”
She looks at his color, the darkness of the gray blending in with the shadows. She's always asked, always wondered what happened to make him gray, the only gray troll she's ever known. He had never shared any information on the subject, no matter how much Poppy pushed.
Poppy could never imagine herself as a gray Troll. To be so lost without music, joy, and dancing, it had to be one of the worst fates a Troll could meet.
And she wonders if he just accepted her friendship, then he could see that he had never been alone this whole time. He has her. And, no matter how many times Branch forces her away, she will always be there for him.
Because he had always been there for her since the first time they met.
Poppy wants to respond to him but finds herself unable to. Unnaturally, she reins herself in, staying as still and quiet as she knows how to. She won't break the bubble surrounding them, the open-ness as he talks to her in a way he has never had before.
“It’s like with my parents, I never knew them. All I remember asking around about them, I just wanted to find them and ask them- ask them why I wasn’t enough for them to stay.” He pauses again. “ Never dwell on the past, as it only dulls the future. That’s the only response I ever received. Trolls, they- they don’t like to focus on the negative.”
"Well,” Poppy responds finally, unable to help herself, “I don't think you listened well."
Branch lets out a soft laugh, "I don't think so either."
"Is," Poppy hesitates, unsure how to proceed. "Is this how-"
"My colors?" Branch cuts her off, "No. It's more than that."
Neither of them had moved an inch, still laying so incredibly close to each other, and she was still so overjoyed at the contact. It's the most prolonged contact Poppy had ever had with Branch without him pulling away.
It's more than that.
She risks the contact, takes her chance, and finds his hand. She slowly holds onto it, interlocking their fingers.
He doesn't pull away.
And she never wants to let go.
"I never knew my mom either."
Branch turns to her, and finally, they are facing each other.
"My dad never really talks about her or about anything until he has to. Sometimes, I think he's just afraid."
Poppy doesn't know why she says it, but it feels like the right thing to say. She's never shared the hard stuff with anyone before. Troll Village was a place of pure joy and happiness, and as their princess, she would never rain on that parade.
Not even with her friends.
Not even with Creek.
But Branch was different.
There was no other Troll in the whole village who genuinely listened to her and responded with complete honesty. He was the only person who seemed to understand all the hard emotions, and that made him the only person Poppy wanted to talk about these things with.
"Truth or dare?"
Poppy gives a small laugh, "Truth."
"What are you afraid of?"
“Simple answer?” She copies his response
“Long answer.” he responds with a soft smile.
"I’m afraid that you'll be right. That I won't be a good Queen, and I'll lead the Trolls to their doom."
He squeezes her hand, "Sometimes, I say things out of irritation."
"But, you mean it."
She could stay here for the rest of her life, with the flowers and the stars. It would be an easy life, with quiet melodies and no responsibilities. There would be no reason to fear anything when there was nothing around to ruin.
“I mean, my dad saved us from Bergens, and has kept us safe for 20 years now. The other Trolls have their full faith in him,” she sighs. “If there is another attack, would they trust me to keep them safe like my dad did?”
“Do you trust yourself?”
“Most of the time, yeah, but when it's late at night and I can’t sleep. That's all I think about.”
"Can I show you something?" Branch asks.
Poppy nods, and without another word, Branch is standing, helping Poppy stand as well.
Poppy declines when Branch offers to find the stick for her, finding that it doesn’t hurt as much when she steps on her foot. Laying on the ground must have let it rest and healed just enough for her to walk somewhat normally.
Branch keeps their hands interlocked, and Poppy follows him out of the meadow.
It takes some time, but they reach a small hill that oversees Troll Village. It's late in the night, and there are hardly any trolls roaming around, but the village is still bright. The pods glisten and shine with the moonlight, and the laughter of trolls ring all around.
Even in the middle of the night, the vibrancy of the village never dulls.
“I think you have a lot to learn before you become queen,” He squeezes her hand. And, she's suddenly aware how Branch's hands are unlike any Troll hand she has ever held. It's soft, so incredibly soft and yet rough around the edges. It's unique in a way that makes her never want to let go. “But, this village wouldn’t be what it is without you. And, as queen, I know you’ll do an amazing job.”
Poppy looks back at the village, and she knows why she will never stay back at that meadow, with the flowers and the stars.
“Poppy, you are the most trustworthy Troll I know, and that has to be one of the most vital parts of being a queen. You never spill anyone's secrets, you never put anyone down, and you fight to make things right for all Trolls, even when everyone tells you not to. You’re confident in what you do. Don't let your mind take that away from you.”
She doesn't need to ask if he's telling her the truth or hiding it to make her feel better. Branch was a lot of things, but he had never been a liar, not with her.
She wanted to bring him into a hug, an expression of the appreciation she was feeling and an excuse to know if hugging him was as soft as holding his hand. But Poppy knows what her limits are with him, and this was the furthest she's ever pushed them.
“Are we friends now?” she asks instead.
“Absolutely not,” Branch replies sternly, but there's a small smile on his face, “don’t get into any more trouble Poppy.”
He lets go of her hand.
Suddenly, the night seems a little bit colder.
“You’ll be there for me when I do, Branchifer.”
It’s not a question. It will never be a question for her. For some strange reason, Branch has got her back, and she has his.
“We’re not friends-” He turns away, walking back towards the forest, away from Troll Village. He pauses just as he reaches the beginning of the trees and the end of the hill, turning back to look at her with a small, but fond smile, “-Poppifer.”