Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Branch was three years old. He was a big boy. He didn’t need a diaper anymore and slept most nights in his own bed and not with grandma. 

Branch is three and still scared of the dark. He was use to his big brothers protecting him from the shadows and the scary darkness that lurked in the corners but they weren’t with him now. He couldn’t see that far ahead of him but grandma said as long as he saw trolls to keep following.

Branch is three and hasn’t seen his big brothers in 7 months, he doesn’t know it’s been 7 months he just knows it’s been a long time. He misses his brothers, all four of them, he misses singing and dancing with them, playing, the stories they’d tell him, and the cuddles. He doesn’t think he'll ever be as warm and safe as when he was in his big brothers‘ arms.

Branch is three and his little legs are running as fast as he can go, tiny grayish blue hands held tightly in his grandmas. Her hand is tight around his wrist as she pulls him along, through the pushing of the crowd. He is three and he lost his stuffy that his big brother got him, his Croc gone under hurried feet.

Branch is three and the night his brothers left his fur turned a sad grayish blue, shining silver in the sunlight. It made him very sad because he didn’t match his brothers anymore, what if they didn’t recognize him with silver fur? Grandma said it was okay, and she’ll help him bring all the blue back.

Branch is three and there is a scream. The crowd surges forward knocking into each other and rushing, there is pushing and pulling and Branch is a little troll, grandma’s grip disappears and through the surge of trolls Branch can’t find her. Not in the darkness.

Branch is three and trying to hum a lullaby his big brothers use to sing. It’s their song and has a verse for each brother. He wished he didn’t have to sing it by himself.

Branch is three when he falls down. His brothers aren’t there to pick him up and he could hear his grandma wail. There are feet kicking him and he curls up as tightly as he can, throwing his arms over his head. Scared he crawls when the crowd thins, tucking himself against a rock and waiting. He knows the rules after all, his big brother taught him, stay put when lost big brother will find you. Branch hopes they find him soon.

Branch is three and his favorite color is blue. Blue like their fur that was soft and warm, like their arms that would wrap him up and keep him safe and soothe all the bad away. Blue was the best color, Branch knew, because his family was blue.

Branch is three when the cave goes quiet. When the crowd is gone and the wails and screams turn to silence. He is covered in dirt and his silvery blue fur is brown and dusty. Peeking around he couldn’t see in the darkness at all and that’s almost as scary as when they were running. 

Branch is three and he is hurt, he is scared, and he is along. 

So he waits

And waits.

Branch is three and doesn’t know how long he’s down there, none of his brothers had taught him how to tell time but the darkness doesn’t leave like night. Slowly, he crawls out from his hiding spot and starts walking. He walks until his feet hurt and he has to stop. He sits in the darkness in the dirt trying not to cry because his big brothers weren’t there to make it better and make the hurt go away, his grandma wasn’t there to help him wash the dirt away, so he couldn’t cry yet.

Not yet.

Branch is three when he walks straight into a giant rock. Face squishing into the stone and skull smacking it with a dull thud. His feet step into something wet and sticky and he can’t see what it is. Reaching down he pats the water, splashing it on his feet before his fingers curl around something. He pulled it close, just a bit from his face so he could see what it was. It’s a bracelet, a white band with colored charms that Branch would know anywhere. It had 7 of them, he knew, one for his momma, one for his uncle , and one for each of his brothers and himself. This was grandma's bracelet. There was red stuff on it, the wet sticky stuff, making it all dirty. Scowling, he tried to wipe it off before putting it in his pocket with his hideout plans, when he found grandma he’d give it back to her.

Branch is three when he turns away from the rock and keeps walking. 

He doesn’t know it takes him two days to wander out of the cave. Scared, hungry, and blinking against the sunlight. He doesn’t know that in two days King Peppy will send a group in to see if they can retrieve the dead and find any survivors tucked away. He doesn’t know that if he walks straight until morning he’d find the other trolls making camp and trying to see who didn’t make it out. But Branch is just three, and his favorite color is blue, his stuffie is gone, and he doesn’t know where he is, or if his brothers could find him. He doesn’t know the red and brown that stained his clothes and hands was blood.

Branch is three and turns on his heel and picks a direction and walks. Stopping to look at flowers and critters even tinier than him. He finds a long branch to hold onto and while humming a familiar lullaby he walks smacking leaves with his stick as he journeys on, wondering if he’d find grandma or one of his brothers just past the trees, waiting for him with a warm hug and soft voices. 

Branch is just three and can’t wait to tell all his big brothers of his grand adventures through the caves- he just has to find them first.

King Peppy swallowed another knot of grief down when Sky Toronto and Moonbloom came to him. They were part of the group that had gone back into the caves, the brave few that dared. He had hopped after the initial rush of everyone fleeing the tree they would find more trolls tucked into hiding spots, camouflaged, or just any still alive. The list of the dead was long. Not all of the bodies could be recovered, not when so many were buried under the earth and others… others simply gone like all the trollistice before. It was Moonbloom to give him Viva’ hug time bracelet, and it ached something fierce to have it knowing his eldest was gone. 

He kept it close, spending too much time staring at the flower's thoughts and memories overwhelming. He didn’t have the luxury to mourn, not when he was king, not when he had a newborn.

He did not want to see what they brought them today, but he did not have that right. Not when many were still searching for their own families. Sky Toronto seemed almost gray as he passed a gem to him, a familiar gem-

“Rosiepuff.” he reported with a gruff voice, he’d bowing in respect as King peppy held the gem aloft. 

Moonbloom bit back a sob, handing over a small blue plush crocodile that had been known to be carried by a specific trolling. “And her grandson, Branch.” she reported.

King Peppy looked up at the sky trying to fight tears and the weight that made his shoulders drop. He had no way of contacting the other boys, until they came home they would live in ignorant bliss. 

“The bodies?” he asked after a moment.

“Under a rock, even… even if we could lift it.-” Sky stopped a shudder running down his spine.

Peppy nodded, “We’ll bury them together.” he said, handing the items to Moonbloom, “Plant roses and a sapling over them.” 

She nodded, already turning to bring the items to where they were commemorating the dead. 

“Nothing else?” He asked Sky before the glitter troll could leave.

“We haven’t found any survivors since those cousins, Creek and Ablaze. I- sir I’m not sure how much longer we can keep going back in there.”

King Peppy pursed his lips, turning away to look at the trolls as they began to build pods and set up a life here in the woods. 

“No troll left behind.” he said rather bitterly, “We must account for our people, they deserve that respect.” 

His eyes tracked Moonbloom, the stuffed toy held gently in her hand. He hopped whatever was after this life Viva was being watched after, he could picture her taking care of a blue trolling, with the mint haired matriarch watching over both children.

Chapter Text

John Dory looked at the letter in his hand one more time, glancing back up at the gray and dying troll tree before pulling his goggles down and turning to enter the caves.

“I’m coming grandma.” 

Jumping to the first drop into the cave, he started his journey into the darkness.

“I’ll find you and Bitty.” he swore, pulling out a flashlight as the ivy that had hidden in the cave moved in the breeze blocking out the little bits of sunlight. 

The caves were long and dark and smelled quite bad, if John Dory was being honest. It was a smell of suffering he decided after he figured he’d been walking well over half the day. Part of him wanted to call out, to see if he would find anyone but he knew he wouldn’t. They would be on the other side of the cave. If the state of the tree and the dust in grandma’s pods were anything to go after. 

He had no idea how long the caves spanned or how deep into the forest they let out so he would have to keep this journey if he hoped to find anyone. He had already passed more than one fork in the trails and had to investigate the dirt trying to see where the trolls went versus critter tracks.

He was debating if he should stop to rest when he came to his first cave in. It was gruesome and made him look away. The dirt was stained with blood discoloring the sand and stone for generations, killing a troll always left its mark on nature, grandma would say. He could see a bit of glittery yellow hair sticking out from the rocks and with a queasy stomach he turned away, it was already too much knowing this poor troll's fate. So close to freedom… he couldn’t stop now, he thought it seemed disrespectful. Instead he gathered some fresh dirt and covered some the blood stains, saying a small prayer that he only remembered half of, and left. His steps felt heavier somehow, like his feet were lead and his brain buzzed with horrible thoughts. 

That fight had been so stupid. If their parents were around he had been scolded fiercely and made to do chores for a week. But that thought hurt just as much. It wasn’t fair. The argument wouldn’t have happened if his parents were alive. Even if they had made the band with them there, Branch and Floyd wouldn't have been calling him dad. Someone else would have reined Spruce in, instead of John Dory having to tell him he couldn’t go to parties. John dory didn’t get to go to parties at all. He wouldn’t have been stuck at seventeen trying to be an adult while still feeling like a little kid. He just wanted his mom. But Floyd and Clay would cry if they saw him cry and Spruce would get angry. Sometimes he wanted to shake Spruce, to scream in his face, when he yelled and argued ‘I’m just a kid too!’ but that wouldn’t have helped anything. 

He wanted his mom and dad now more than anything. He wanted to know his brothers were safe. He wanted grandma to chide him in her teasing tone and soft smile. He wanted his mom to cradle him close and tell him it's okay and he's doing his best. He wanted his dad to say he was proud. He wanted to find his brothers and say sorry… he wanted them to say sorry to. 

The second cave-in wasn't that far from the first and while he didn’t see blood or anything under the rubble he followed the same sign of respect, sprinkling the dirt around the rubble and bowing his head in a prayer. 

He had to stop and eat, taking big gulps of water. In his head with a voice that sounded like his father listing everything that can happen with dehydration and all its side effects. “When this is all over, I’ll take us all camping, just like you wanted dad.” he promised, lifting his bottled water in a mocking toast.

The third one made him throw up. She was only half under the rock. Her entire torso and legs were crushed and John Dory desperately hoped it had been quick, that she hadn’t been stuck gasping in pain waiting for her lungs to give out. It was even worse, he thought, because he recognized her. She had been a Brozone fan and had come to all their shows, a girl around Spruce’s age with so much lif-

He shakingly grabbed some dirt and repeated the process. But he wasn't farther than a few feet when he saw a familiar shade of purple fur, and the sleeve of her favorite red dress. 

“No, no, no, no.” he chanted, falling to his  knees and dropping his flashlight, “Grandma.” he voice cracked. Smacking the rock he put all his strength into trying to get it to move but it didn’t inch. “No!” he shouted, “I didn’t come all this way to know I failed!” he shouted headbutting the stone and trying to get a firmer grip, straightening and feeling his muscles seize. 

The rock didn’t move.

John Dory sobbed, “I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry.” he chanted, smacking the rock.

Bowing his head he let his tears fall, dropping onto the stained earth as he felt a wail building in his lungs. The image of Bitty being under there. Bitty must have been so scared, he hated the dark. 

Slowly he blinked back tears, shaking the thoughts of his youngest brother’s broken body being trapped under a stupid god forsaken rock when he caught sight of the stained earth. 

There was a footprint in the blood. A small tiny trolling footprint. It could be any trollings. He reasoned. It could be Bitty’s. What if it is Bitty’s? All alone. With trolls that don’t know he hates the darkness and loves books, that he loves bitter and sour things and needs his plush to sleep at night.

Picking up the flashlight he shined it on the dirt and saw it trail away, tiny bloody footprints. He scrambled to get up, taking a step to follow the trail before freezing, staring back at his grandma’s body. 

“It’s Bitty.” he reasoned to her corpse, “You’d want me to find him. I don't think I could get you anyway.”

He couldn’t leave her though. Whining under his breath, he buried her exposed arm and said the prayer, asking or rather begging her to guide him to Bitty before taking off after blood footprints that stained the earth.

Chapter Text

The search goes from hours to days but John Dory was nothing if not stubborn at some point he’s pretty sure searching and holding onto that hope was the only thing keeping Him moving. It was close to the end of the week when he ended up stumbling onto something. 

Smacking the bush leaves out of the way he stumbled out of the forest and onto a dirt path. He sighed, crouching down and trying to hold onto some hope. The path he was on was big and obviously not troll made, it was out in the middle of nowhere though so he didn’t think Bergens were using it. Rolling his shoulders he took out his map and marked off the row he had just searched, wondering if he’d ever find Bitty. 

Turning on his heel, he spun around slowly trying to see anything out of the ordinary. 

“Oh god,” he jolted, clutching his chest, wondering how he missed the giant clown head staring at him.

It was intimidating and glaring down at him and how had he missed that? It honestly made the fur on his neck stand up and he couldn’t help but take a step back.

“Okay JD, you can do it.” He chanted, bouncing on his feet, “you will go to the creepy clown and just a Quick Look, that’s all we need.” 

He inched forward, but the clown thing didn’t move.

“This is stupid and if any of your brothers were here they would be making fun of you.” He told himself after the third inch forward. 

Shaking himself he said firmly to the clown “I am John Dory explorer. I have hiked the Neverglades and survived, I am not scared of some weird clown in the middle of the woods… by myself.”

The things I do for my brothers.

He walked with a false sense of bravo to the clown and was only a foot away before he realized it was a building. It’s “tongue” was rolled out and on the ground and it had rust and dirt all over it. 

“Huh…weird.” Looking around himself he realized there were a lot of weird statues and buildings and “what even is this place?”

Just as he was debating if he should stay and set up camp for the night or go back into the woods and really he was leaning to the woods because this was just kinda sad and creepy… 

“Hello?”

A voice called out, but before John could answer back it was followed with.

“You’re a troll!”

Suddenly behind all the creepy statues and out of the clown's mouths dozens of trolls poured out looking excited. 

“Oh! Uh hi! I’m John Dory.”

“HELLO! I’m Viva! It’s so so so amtastic to see you! Are you a scout for my dad?”

A pink and yellow trolling shouted jumping up and down in front of him, her wild yellow hair flying all over the place. John Dory gulped slightly, eyes darting to all the hopeful faces that stared at him. But even with all the attention he couldn’t help but scan the crowd, hoping for the shock of blue hair and the sweet sound of his excitable baby brother. 

“Er… no. My little brother got separated during the escape. I'm looking for him.”

Her face dropped slightly but not by much, “Oh! We got separated in the tunnels, so he might be with us. What is his name? What does he look-“

She wasn’t breathing, John Dory decided. she was saying all of these sentences breathlessly like they had to come out right this second.

“John?” A voice interrupted right as she finally took a breath to continue her interrogation. 

His head moved so fast he thought he had whiplash. Standing a bit behind the girl and slowly moving away from the crowd was a familiar face.

He wore a pinched expression somewhere between relieved and unhappy, his nose scrunching up like it always did when they were a kid when he didn’t know how to react. He was taller then when John Dory had left those years ago, John didn’t have to look down to meet his eyes, instead their dad’s blue eyes stared back at him. His hair was just as wild as Viva’s, with the color ombre-ing from green to yellow and his natural waves on full display.

John didn’t think. He didn’t think about how much they fought or the fact they hadn’t seen each other in so long. Running forward and bringing his little brother into a hug, lifting his feet off the ground and ignoring the complaints as he did so. 

“Thank god, thank god.” John Dory couldn’t help but crock out, the stress of the last week leaving him shaking as he clung to the first brother he’d seen. 

“Er, John?” Clay asked, his voice cracking slightly in confused panic, patting him on the back awkwardly while he shot the other trolls' panicked looks.

Putting him down he stepped away, wiping away some tears before grabbing his brother’s face, turning it left and right as his eyes scanned his features. 

“I’m so happy you’re okay.”

Clay frowned, staring at John as he lifted his own hands and placed them over top of his, their blue fur blending seamlessly together. Worry was beginning to cloud his features as his own blue eyes trailed along the mud that caked John’s face, the twig he hadn’t been able to detangle from his hair. And suddenly John Dory realized with some embarrassment he hadn’t bathed all week, or taken care of his hair to frantic in his search of the woods.

“Were you…. Were you looking for me?”

And oh, the small bit of hope he could hear ringing through Clay’s voice made him wince. Pulling away he started going through his pockets while he spoke, turning his eyes away.

“I went back to the pod and found this letter, from grandma.” He said instead, pulling the letter out and giving it to Clay to read, “I went through what was left of the caves… I… Clay grandma didn’t make it out.”

Clay’s head snapped up from the paper, eyes wide and a look of horror spreading across his features even as his ears began to drop. His hands shook, tearing the paper in his hands.

“Bitty?” His voice came out small and hesitating like he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“I found trolling footprints, he’s out of the cave but-“ he gestured to the woods behind him. “I’ve been looking for days.”

John Dory took the moment to look at the other trolls standing around them waiting for news, to the little ten year old pink trolling that had stopped bouncing.

“The tunnels branch off like 5 times, and there are trails leading to each of them. I think-“ he shrugged slightly, “they go in different directions, a lot more trolls got out but I don’t know where they are.”

“That’s, that’s okay.” Another troll stepped up a green one that was older than John, he put a comforting hand on Viva’s shoulder. “Well send out scouts then. We know more got out now.” 

Viva nodded sharply.

“And,” Viva chimed in, looking back up at the older troll, “We can help you look for Bitty.”

The green troll smiled, “You should eat and um sleep here for the night.”

“Tomorrow,” Clay said, sounding stern and serious and nothing like his little brother, “I’ll help you chart the forest, we’ll find Bitty.”

That night as they got ready for bed John waited, listening intently for Clay to fall asleep before he reached over and took his hand. Finding comfort in the assurance he had found one brother.

It wasn’t the little brother he was looking for but it eased something in his chest to not be alone anymore. 

Turning his head into his pillow, he fought off a smile when he felt Clay squeeze his hand back.

This didn’t fix anything, they still had a lot to talk about, but for the night they took comfort in knowing they weren’t alone.

Chapter Text

The next morning Clay sits cross legged in front of him, worrying his bottom lip, as he taps a pencil against a ripped piece of paper. He looks up at him when John Dory stretches but goes back to writing. 

“Spruce sent a letter a day ago, I haven’t replied yet, but I’m going to tell him about Bitty, He’ll come help.”

John tried not to react, turning his face away to hide the hurt. It figured his brothers would stay in touch with each other. He was the problem after all. He shouldn’t be surprised Spruce would stay in contact with the younger two, especially Clay. After mom and dad got taken Spruce was always mad at him for something. They had butted heads more than he and Clay did- but at least with Spruce even if the fight got really bad he could always count on him. He’d grumble and complain but he always helped when it came to the younger brothers.

Spruce and Clay just got each other more, there was a weird understanding between the two that neither he nor Floyd got. The amount of times he was kicked out of his and Spruce’s shared room so he and Clay could have a sleepover… honestly it was more of a surprise they didn’t stick together then anything else.

“Have you heard from Floyd?” he asked, studying the ground beneath his feet.

“I didn’t even know he left the tree.” Clay said, face twitching, “Thought he would stay with Bitty and Grandma, he's only like fourteen.”

“Fifteen,” John couldn't stop himself from correcting, he had kept track of the days, silently celebrating his and his brothers hatchdays with a sweet and silent wish.

Clay shot him an angry look.

“His hatchday was the day after the concert.” he said with a shrug, looking away at the nasty look his brother was giving him.

Sighing he rubbed the back of his neck, pursing his lips out. “Look, I’m sorry.” he stopped, thinking of what he should say.

“About what.” Clay demanded, his tone shifting to something deeper, meaner.

“What?”

“What is the great John Dory sorry about? Cause I still don’t think you know what the issue that caused all this is!” he shouted, waving his arms around the building, his eyes wild when John looked up at him.

“I’m sorry mom and dad died!”

“That isn’t what this is about!” Clay shrieked, his voice going high and cracking. John felt his ears pin back at the volume and the hair on his neck rise as anger began to spike.

“Isn't it?!” he shot back, taking a step forward as frustration began to burn through him, his arms shaking. “Mom and Dad died and you and Spruce turned against me! I already knew it was my fault! I should have been paying attention, I should have known it was too close to Trollistice to go out. I came back with Branch and mom and dad were gone, you couldn’t take your anger out on a baby so you took it out on me. Newsflash Clay, I already knew it was my fault.”

Tears were streaming down his face making his brother’s figure blur into a mess of neon yellow and green. If he could see clearly he would have noticed the way his little brother’s face dropped from anger to horror, the way he raised his hand to try and catch John Dory’s shaking shoulder. 

“Johnny,” his voice came out in a whisper, a soft sound that rang in John’s ears even as he hiccuped past his sobs. “Johnny no,” he said, coming closer, he stopped himself for a long moment before wrapping his arms around him.

“It-” he stopped swallowing like there was something sour in his mouth, “That was never- we didn’t blame you.” he said lamely, dropping his arms with a grimace. 

“It, we lost mom and dad, but we lost you that night too. You came back and you weren’t Johnny anymore. You stopped talking to us, stopped playing with us, stopped everything, it was like there was a wall and none of us could break it. And then you started the band!” his voice lit up, “You were smiling again! And even if Spruce and I weren’t sure about it, it gave us back our Johnny… only that didn’t last.”  he glared at his hands, clasped tightly together as he wrangled them and picked, unwilling to meet the steady gaze of the oldest.

“You changed again. We got mad because we already lost our parents, we didn’t know what to do and you came in and…” he was breathing hard like the words had to come out, “You weren’t the brother I’d play pranks on and would laugh, you’d get so mad about things. You started bossing us around and telling us what to do, how to look. I didn’t know this new JD all I knew was he took our Johnny away and that hurt.”

“You got mean.” his voice grew small like it wasn’t something he wanted to admit, “We weren’t dolls or story characters you could control, we are your brothers and it felt like you forgot that. You’re the one that taught all of us that as long as we were together we could do anything, because brothers take care of each other.”

John Dory felt his heart breaking the longer his brother spoke. He felt his shoulders sagging under the weight. 

“I- i didn’t realize I was taking it out on you.” he admitted, bowing his head deeper. “I just, grandma was sick, I don't know if you remember that, she wasn’t there for the first 8 months without mom and dad. I-’ his lips quivered, “Mom and dad told me to watch out for you guys, i mean they always told me that but now there was no one else. I had to keep us fed and make sure the house was clean, when we ran out of food…”

“You had to find a way to make money.” Clay finished for him, frowning as he listened to his brother’s words.

“I didn’t know what I was doing.” he said after a long moment of silence between the two. 

“Yeah, I get that.” 

Branch is three and is very dirty. His knees and palms are scraped from falling down and he wished his big brothers were there to kiss them better because it stung. His tummy ached again, but he was too scared to eat another berry. The last one made his mouth fuzzy and his head heavy, songs floated in his ears and the sound of his brothers calling him had led him into a mud puddle so now Floyd’s vest was all dirty. 

Branch is three and very scared. It had been a long time and he hadn't found any of his brothers or grandma. He’s run from critters and he can’t sleep well cause when he falls asleep his hair turns back to normal instead of hiding him. He was trying his best. It wasn’t perfect though. He wonders if that's why he hasn’t found Johnny or Spruce, Clay or Floyd cause he wasn’t perfect yet. He can be perfect though! He just wished they would tell him how to.

Carefully he jumped from rock to rock across the river, like the game of floor lava he and Clay would play, until Grandma would yell cause someone always ended up on the table and she'd get so mad. He giggled at the memory. 

His ear twitched, something he was still learning to do, making his head turn. There was growling coming from the grass. Flattening himself down he let the water cover his body and tried to make himself smaller, shaking and straining against the headache as he forced his hair to grow out and turn gray, trying to make himself look like one of the rocks.

He wasn’t sure he liked this adventure. 

Spruce laid back in the sand, putting his hands behind his head as he basked in the sun. Today was going to be a good day. He had sent out letters to his brothers- even JD in the Neverglades. Telling them about Vacay Island, the friendly giants, and a safe place for them, if they wanted to join him. He was angry at JD, he doubted that would change any time soon, but this place was safe, truly safe, even if he was still mad he had to send out the offer. He tried to explain it to his friends here but they hadn’t lived their entire lives in fear, hadn’t lost aunts, uncles, cousins… parents. They hadn’t lived with that over their shoulder, trying desperately to keep your family safe. He wanted his family to be safe.

He figured it would be hardest for Floyd and Bitty stuck in the tree that they were. He was waiting on edge for their letter. Bernard, one of his first friends here, and his younger sister Brandi both yellow and orange vacationeers agreed to help him get his youngest brothers out of that god awful tree. He just needed the go ahead, the letter saying they’d be ready at the meeting spot. 

He just needed to stay relaxed until then. There was no use stressing. Instead he started working with Bernard in making pods for his brothers, just at the of the forest right before the ground turned to sand. It would be somewhere more familiar to ease them into living with giants. Bernard was heading home for dinner so that just left Spruce. 

Looking at the clouds above him he tried to picture it. Floyd and Clay splashing each other in the waves. JD holding Branch and swung him as waves crashed against their feet. It was a nice thought. 

The daydream was interrupted by buzzing. Shooting up and looking around he couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face, the bloodhound beetle was back!

Chapter Text

Branch is three, or at least that’s the last number he knew. The memories of before were fuzzy, vague, things of warmth and soft humming. Voices that read him stories and sang lullabies, arms that held him close and warm. It has been a long time since he had any of that though. Most of the time he was cold. The only sounds he heard from the critters that lived in the forest around him. 

The critters were all he had. They taught him everything he needed to know after he lost the voices. He learned how to track from the fizzle foxes and their long tails, haunting took longer and he jumped from the traps of the tarantacapuffs, to the brute force of the puffalos. 

Sometimes it was nice. No one made him take baths or told him what to do, he didn’t have to clean behind his ears or brush the knots out of his hairs. 

He walked along the river bank, humming under his breath. He was very thirsty. Ducking down he put face into the stream, guzzling as much as he could. His ear twitched, turning this way and that. He was ever alert, his nose twitching when cold water splashed up. 

He wanted someone to give him bubble baths. The warm voices cooing and putting bubbles on his head, flashes of greens and yellows chasing across his vision.

He crouched lower. The sound of wings making him giddy. He had been able to catch a small bird just two weeks ago for dinner. It lasted many meals, it was the first time he had been full in a long time. 

He wanted soft hands to card through his hair, tugging and losing the knots that hurt so much. The smells of flowers and oils that untangled the hurty knots. He could see blurred images of pinks and purples, soft voices, he could hear murmurs but not distinguished words. 

He wanted to chase the taste of the bitter treat that he could taste on the tip of his tongue. He wanted the sweet hard candies he remembered breaking with others with loud giggles and chuckles. 

He wanted. 

He wanted . 

He wanted.

That wasn’t what he had though. 

The other trolls sent out teams of three. Carefully searching the forest heading further and further into the uncharted land. John Dory and Clay were just marking off another round on their map, having walked in rows and ending up back at the dirt road. 

John Dory sat down on the ground with a thump, kicking up dust. Running his hands through his hair. 

“We’re never going to find him.” He moaned.

Clay bit his lip, rubbing his shoulder. “We’ll find him. We have to.” 

Clay watched his eldest brother with his own ears dropping, each day they didn’t find Bitty his color darkened. He knew the other trolls weren’t helping, whispers of critters they had run into and how none of them believed a baby would survive in the forest alone. The words eaten, drowned, exposure, were whispered with pitting eyes shot at them. Clay tried not to scream at them. Until they had evidence Clay wouldn’t give up hope. He couldn't. He was mildly sure his hope was the only thing pushing John Dory on at this point.

“Let’s stop for lunch.” he settled, pulling his bag around to oss John some of the snacks he had packed. 

“I’m a failure.” John answered back, catching the berry without looking up, “If I had just been better, been perfect , we wouldn’t be spread out, Bitty wouldn’t be lost alone in the woods. He’s probably scared.”

Clay tried not to bristle, tried to bite back the automatic anger that burned hot and deep at that stupid word.

“Shut the fuck up John.”

John’s head snapped up, eyes widened at the words and his ears twitching forward. 

“We already talked about this. I’m not Spruce or Floyd, I’m not going to sugarcoat things to make you feel better. You fucked up, but so did I, so did Spruce and Floyd. We all fucked up. So, you don't get to sit here and have a pity party.” 

John’s jaw dropped open in shock. Before Clay could continue a slow clap started up behind him. Spinning on his heel he was met with a beautiful sight.

He was bigger, taller than when they left. His hair was longer then any of them had ever grown it, beginning to swoop downwards from the weight. He replaced their vest with a printed shirt, but kept their stupid white shorts. His abs were gone, he looked healthy. But more importantly besides him!

His magenta hair was styled differently, one part hanging down over his face. He got a new piercing at the top of his left ear, that matched with the black shorts he wore a studded belt with. He wore a gentle smile.

“SPRURE!  FLOYD!” he screamed, louder then he had been in months. 

Floyd's grin grew wider and he shot forward, nearly tackling him into a hug. Clay wrapped his arms tightly around the second youngest, pulling his feet off the ground and swaying.

“I found this one on my way over, he was heading to the tree.” Spruce said, walking past them to look down at John Dory. 

Clay tilted his face away from Floyd, eyeing the two oldest out of the corner of his eye. Spruce's face was serious, a small frown on his face as his eyes rolled over the oldest. He knew what he was seeing. Even with help Clay was hard pressed to get him to rest. The dark circles under his eyes and the way his hair and fur were at least five shades darker then where they were supposed to be. His clothes were dirty, and Clay had pulled more than a few leaves out of his hair. Now John Dory sat, hand clutching a razzle berry, staring up at Spruce with a sad disheartened expression. 

Spruce sighed, crouching down to be more eye level with the oldest. 

“You’re a mess.” he said bluntly. “But Clay is right. We all share blame.”

Floyd shifted in his arms, resting his chin on his shoulder to stare at the older boys.

“I shouldn’t have said I quit. I knew you associate the family with the band, I knew you’d take it the wrong way.”

John sniffed, “I shouldn’t have left,” he whispered, “Shouldn't have said Goodbye Forever. I didn’t mean it.”

“None of us should have left.” Floyd spoke finally, pulling away from Clay. He glanced down, grabbing Clay’s hand and dragged him over to the others. “We can’t change that though.” 

“We have a Bitty B to find. After that we can deal with all this.” Spruce said, waving between them.  “We’re older, some of us are adults now.” he added, smiling faintly at the glare and stomp of his foot Floyd gave at that answer. 

“Okay,” Clay said before Floyd could start yelling, slightly amused to note he had the same pout and the fur on his cheeks still bristled when he was annoyed, pulling out his map he laid it down. “We have about a dozen groups of trolls scouring the forest-”

“What are they doing to get Bitty to come out?” Floyd asked as he studied the map, still shooting Spruce annoyed glares.

“What do you mean? They’re calling for him?” John Dory questioned, trying to discreetly wipe a tear away as he sat up.

Floyd looked between Clay and John Dory with incredulous expressions. When they stared blankly back he looked at Spruce for support but the purple haired troll didn’t understand either.

Floyd groaned, “One of the first things we taught Branch was not to go with everyone that knows his name, not after that fan tried to reach onto the stage for a hug. He’s not going to go to strange trolls calling his name.”

Dawning horror made Clay and John stare at each other.

“You’re saying we might have driven him deeper into the forest?”

Chapter Text

A month passes by quickly before the Putt Putt trolls find something. The brothers were just making their way back to the Hole’n’Fun to gather more supplies when Viva all but tackled Clay. She was grinning from ear to ear, bouncing around with sparkling eyes. The brothers started to smile, their skin turning brighter by the second.

“Eeeee, you’ll never guess what Trixie’s group found!”

JD smiled widely, feeling the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. They must have found Bitty B, or at least something to point them in the right direction. They had told the trolls to stop calling for him, that he wouldn’t run to strangers calling his name. It had been Clay who had come up with the idea of dressing some of the trolls up like how they had used to dress in the tree. Not a lot of Putt Putt trolls were blue, but they made it work. Bitty would have to get pretty close to see it wasn’t one of the brothers. The plan was mostly just to catch sight of Bitty, even if the Putt Putt trolls couldn’t get them, if they knew where he was the brothers could scour the rest of the area for him. 

Clay grabbed her, pulling her away so he could see her face. He was ginning too, but his eyes were as wild as his hair.

“You found Bitty? Where is he? Do you have him in my room? The admin building? Is he okay? Does he look hurt?”

But Viva's smile faded, looking awkwardly between the brothers as Clay fired off question after question. She shuffled out of his arms, wrapping her arms around herself, and grimacing. 

“Oh, Clay, that’s.” 

JD’s smile dropped, heart dropping with just the shift of her face. 

“We did find something though, it is good news.” she tried, her eyes dancing between the brothers.

“But no news about Bitty.” Spruce said, more of a statement than anything else.

“Well no-”

Floyd shook his head, shifting to lean against Spruce, letting the older troll wrap an arm around his shoulder in a half-hearted hug. JD shoulders rose, trying to keep a tight lid on his anger. 

Clay frowned, looking her up and down, “You’re not normally cruel.” he muttered, walking past her. 

She flinched, reaching a hand out to stop him but letting it hover in the air while the others followed him into the mini golf course.

The walk through the golf course was weird. The boys cut a line through celebrating trolls straight to the snack bar. They passed parties and the couple dozen trolls all celebrating. Floyd tried not to count, already half knowing the search parties were done and over with. As far as the Putt Putt trolls were concerned they found whatever they were looking for and it wasn’t Branch. None of the trolls would look at them. Any eyes that passed over them were quickly averted.

They worked silently and together, packing up water and food into large bags. JD and Spruce picked up the bags, shouldering them easily as they all turned to leave. It was Mossy, the green troll that had been taking care of Viva that stepped into the room, blocking the doorway. He looked old, weary and grim as he looked at them.

“We found the rest of the trolls.” he told them, “That’s what Viva was trying to tell you.” 

“But Branch isn’t with them?” Floyd clarified, unwilling to let their hope be played with.

“King Peppy has a memorial for the trolls that didn’t make it out of the caves.” he said instead.

“So?” Clay demanded, his face turning purple in anger. “By all accounts your name will be on the memorial to Moss.”

“Clay, I know he was your little brother but think about it. You’re going to get hurt going out and looking.”

“We’re not giving up.” Floyd and Clay snapped together, shooting each other surprised looks, even as they had stepped forward in unison. 

“He’s dead.”

“No he is not!” JD snapped, pushing past his brothers to stand in front of the green troll, a snarl on his lips.

Moss’ eyes soften, looking at JD sadly.

“It’s been years since we left the tree, there is no way a trolling has survived that long alone in these woods. It must be hard, I know, but we found the others, somewhere safe. We’re not sending more people out to look for a dead trolling. We’re going home.”

“I’m not giving up.” Floyd spoke, striding forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with his oldest brother. Both now glaring at the troll.

Spruce didn’t speak, instead walking out the door without a glance to the other troll. JD and Floyd followed, making sure to shoulder check the offending troll. Clay stopped at the door frame, looking at the green troll from the corner of his eye.

“Clay please, think of this logically. You know he couldn’t have made it.”

;Mossy you were a good friend, a good mentor.” Clay said finally, thinking of the years they had built and maintained the safety of the trolls in the golf course. “We gave up looking for the rest of the village because of you.”

Moss flinched, his hands clenching, “That was different-”

“You were wrong then it seems. You’re going to be wrong this time too. I’m not giving up on anything.”

Branch kneeled at the stream, dunking this green second skin thing into the water. It kept him warm and made his tummy warm with something. He had to keep it clean, it was important. He didn’t know why it was important but something in his head screamed. He held it out, turning it this way and eyeing it for any more mud. Brining it close he ran his hands over the fake leaves of the second skin, he didn’t remember where he got it. He wishes he did. Maybe there used to be more things that made his tummy warm and his cheeks hurt. 

His ear twitched at the sound of a branch snapping. Freezing at once while he tried to figure out what that was. He heard something. Something like no creature he heard before. He turned slowly, watching the tree line. The noise didn’t seem to be coming closer, instead walking right by him.

Pulling his second leafy skin close he put himself almost level to the ground and crawled forward. Peaking through the grass. His head tilted slightly and he wanted to let out a coo of greeting at the sight before him. It stirred something in his head, a whisper of something, a low vibrating humming that came with strange sounds. Suddenly the green one in the middle stopped, head tilting before he looked down in the grass. His eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open in shock. But suddenly it wasn’t just him but so many eyes on him, making his skin crawl.

Hissing he felt his fur stand on end and his spine arch in warning, scrambling to back up as the group gasped, some slowly showing their teeth raising their hands out to him. 

Turning tail he ran, flattening his ears when the strange things screamed.

“BRANCH!” 

Scaling up a tree he hid, watching the green one crash through the forest, screaming the same noise.

“BRANCH!” 

He wailed, eyes wide and darting, “To the Tree gods, Clay was right.” he whispered so lowly Branch had to strain to hear.

“Mr. Moss!” another voice came, higher pitched and younger, suddenly a pink thing stumbled close to the man, grabbing his arm to stop herself from falling face first into the dirt. “Was that him? Mr. Clay’s little brother?”

He nodded, still scanning the forest.

“We have to send someone back and tell him! Mr. Clay and his brothers will be so happy!”

The green troll rubbed his face. 

"Viva, lead the others to your father. I'll go back. I owe Clay that much."

The pink one looked nervous, tugging at bright yellow hairs. She looked out over the forest floor and her face turned into a look of determination. 

"Okay Mr. Moss, I'll lead them home."

Chapter Text

They had made camp for the night in a small clearing of buttercups and poppies, nestled into the flowers. Bruce had dragged over some small fallen trees for them to use as benches as they huddled together under the stars. Clay’s map laid out in front of them.

JD sat with his legs out in front of him, lightly tapping the plate to his thigh while his little brothers moved around him. Casual conversations. No bickering or fighting, just a steady flow they hadn’t had in years. Bruce was talking about his girlfriend? Fiance? JD wasn’t sure, only half listening between the heavy thoughts that made him feel as if a boulder sat on his back, crushing his lungs, getting heavier everyday they didn’t find the youngest.

He couldn’t look at his brothers. Wouldn't dare. They had so venomously declared their youngest was alive, but JD didn’t know. The forest was dangerous to a grown troll, least of all a trolling. He tried not to think about it. The little blue trolling wandering the woods, Branch had been smart but still a baby, still asking his big brothers for help and trailing after them like a little duckling. He wanted to hold out hope- needed to. Clay basically ruined his relationship with his friends defending his belief their little brother was out here.

Clay sat next to him, bumping their shoulders together to get his attention.

JD shot him a small scowl turning his gaze back to the crackling fire. Was he leading his brothers on a fool's errand? Would they even find a body?

“You’re doing it again.” Clay snapped, cutting off whatever Bruce had been saying, his hands outstretched in a flourish.

Bruce and Floyd turned to look at them, twin looks of confusion. JD tried not to snort. Their expressions were near identical with the slightly downward curves of their eyebrows and open mouthed frowns.

“I’m not doing anything.” He argued back.

“You are.” He declared, his scowl fierce and arms crossed, snatching the plate from his lax hand and throwing it aside. “You’re shutting us out. That’s what caused this in the first place. You stopped talking to us after Mom and Dad died.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did.” Bruce cut in, face smoothing out slightly as he caught on to the issue. Crossing his arms as he moved to stand next to Clay.

“You decided you had to deal with everything on your own. You wouldn’t let me help, wouldn’t talk to me, we could see you were struggling but if anyone asked you’d just explode.”

“Don’t act like you wanted to help!” He snapped standing up with balled fists. He could feel the blood rush to his face as he glared at his immediate younger brother, “You just picked fights! Any time I’d ask you to do something you’d say no! I figured out it was better not to ask!”

“Because you got bossy! Any time I did help it wasn’t up to your standards!” Bruce yelled, stepping closer till they were nearly chest to chest.

Floyd sighed, looking between the three fighting brothers with sad eyes.

“Guys come on, we have to find Branch. We can't forget about that.”

“Floyd is right, lets just…lets just get this done and go our separate ways.” JD said, shoulders stiff and tense and face hard.

“What!?” Floyd hissed, looking between the three wildly while they all shrugged and mumbled agreements. “You can’t be serious.”

“You didn’t think we’d all live together when this was all over did you? Singing songs and roasting marshmallows?” he shot back bitterly, looking at the second youngest unimpressed.

For the first time Floyd was angry, truly bone deeply angry at his brothers. He had been ticked off and annoyed before but nothing like this. For a split second he wondered if this is how they felt all the time around each other, but he pushed that thought away. He was shaking and he knew it, glaring harshly at the three trolls watching him. He could feel his heart start to speed up and he wanted to scream, wanted to knock them down a peg or two, make them realize what they were doing. How was he the only one that realized anything?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” he yelled, running forward and tackling Bruce straight into JD knocking them both down.

“You! YOU ABSOLUTE MONSTERS!” he shrieked, something deep and savage, making his throat hurt instantly with the force.

“Why can’t you just talk!? Why do you keep doing this?! We’re a family! WERE BROTHERS?!” he gasped, balling his fists and bringing them down as hard as he could, while the two oldest were confused and trying to scramble off eachother, But Floyd just grabbed purple hair in a tight fist and yanked, feeling something satisfying in his chest with the howl his second oldest brother let out.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Clay muttered, dancing on his feet for a second before reaching over and yanking Floyd up by his armpits. “Nice feral little brother.” he muttered, holding him up and away from him.

Floyd flailed, kicking and screaming. He had watched his whole childhood his brothers rage against each other, had watched them tear eachother apart like it meant nothing, now it was his turn.

Bruce stood up, dusting himself off before helping JD up. They turned and watched Floyd hiss and kick glaring at them with an expression they had never seen on his face. Eventually his kicks grew less wild before he just hung limp in his brother's arms. Pouting with crossed arms.

“You good bro?” JD asked gently, taking a hesitant step closer.

“You are so selfish.” he spat out, not looking as JD’s face fell, looking back at Bruce with a frown.

“You are bossy and annoying and prideful, a perfectionist that I think you might have OCD,” he continued rambling, saying the words fast like they burned his tongue to admit.

“You,”’ sniffling and trying to stop tears from rolling down his cheeks, he continued looking up to meet his oldest brother in the eyes, “you are funny and talented and confident, you believe in me… in us. Johnny, you're a good brother, most of the time. But you’re terrible at listening.”

Clay finally dropped him, moving to step besides the crying troll.

“Look at us,” he said, gesturing between all of them looking at his oldest desperately, “I know you don’t want to leave us. None of us want to go back to how things were. Did you know Bruce built us pods, back on that beach of his? The trolls Clay was staying with said this is the most animated they’ve ever seen him. And don’t you dare think I haven’t noticed you’re darker than us now!”

He paused trying to get in more air as his lungs heaved. He felt drained and tired, his eyes were beginning to hurt and without much thought he rubbed his dripping nose against his arm. Watching John frown at the action like he always did.

“I spent the last few years without my brothers. It was the hardest years of my life. I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to go back after doing this-being here with you, together again, I don’t want to do life solo. So just, please Johnny, let us in. Stop pushing us away.”

John Dory closed his eyes, unwilling to watch his brother cry. But the image was burned in his head. Floyd begged him, tears rolling down his cheeks and his chest heaving as he begged. Clay was standing stone faced next to him, looking vaguely constipated as he half glared at him.

“I don’t-” he stopped himself, struggling to think of the right words, “I don’t know how to. Letting you help… it feels like if I do that, I failed.”

It’s Bruce who steps to him, face a mask of concern as he brings his hand up and gently touches his arm, he hadn’t noticed he had crossed them. Blue eyes met purple and for a long moment the oldest just studied each other. Bruce looked older, even if it had only been three years. He was as old as John Dory was when they had left the tree.

“What do you mean?” he asked gently, in a tone John hadn’t heard his immediate younger brother use towards him since their parents died. It was filled with compassion and something else, love maybe, it was something he had only ever used with family.

John Dory looked away.

“Look, I knew it was my fault we lost mom and dad. If I hadn’t been out, hadn’t stupid-”

“John, that wasn’t your fault!”

“Yes it was! If I had just gotten home on time mom and dad wouldn’t have been out during trollistice-”

Johnny tried to fight off the dopey smile that kept spreading across his face, knowing his dad wouldn’t like seeing it after he missed curfew. But Shelly, a beautiful purple glitter troll he had been crushing on since pre-school had kissed him! Him, goofy John Dory. he thought he could float on the clouds when she had invited him to her party, something she had started as a tradition. One last party to see everyone before the dreaded holiday. His mom hadn’t wanted him to go, wanted to keep him tucked in their pod with his little brothers.

Don’t get him wrong, John Dory loved his three little brothers. They could be pretty cute and funny sometimes. But he was almost an adult! He didn’t want to be treated like a kid or be stuck playing with the babies for three days.

He extended his hair, letting it wrap firmly around the upcoming branch and pull him along. Landing on his feet he looked up to see his mother. Before he could greet her, her blue face shifted from relief to horror as she raced forward, pushing him back off the branch. A large white gloved hand was reaching where he just was, wrapping around his mother with a firm grip. She left out a yell as the crunching echoed as the Bergen squeezed. John stared wide eyed. Meeting his mothers gaze, she gave him a bloody smile, before her hands reached up to her hair. He could see it part and a small blue egg sat nestled on her head, she yanked it, detaching it and sending blood running down her face. She held the tiny egg in her hand, giving it a gentle kiss before tossing it.

“Dory catch!” she called out, even as he leapt forward curling his body around the tiny egg and started to fall down the tree, the branches and leaves passing in a blur of color.

He looked up, catching sight of purple troll, using green hair to try and wip the Bergen. In the next second in between blinks a second hand came down and took the green troll up.

Catching sight of a closer branch, John extended his green hair and shot himself to it. Curling into the moss closest to the base of the tree and looking down at the blue egg in his hands. There was blood on it, and was the smallest egg he’d ever seen, even Floyd’s egg had been bigger. It was prematurely detached and seemed to grow colder by the second. Panicking he brought it up and shoved the tiny egg in his hair, willing it to stay warm and safe.

Shaking, he laid down against the bark and stared up at the sky. His heart beating in his ears and the weight on his head unfamiliar and foreign as his hair cocooned it and hardened, creating an outer shell.

His parents were gone. Just like that.

Because of a stupid party and a stupid girl.

Because of him.

Chapter Text

Bruce didn’t know what to say. Instead he stared stunned as his older brother broke down. Sobbing his heart out to them. It was Floyd, the only one of them with a lick of sense, that moved forward with a weird keening noise escaping his throat. Throwing himself over John’s crumpled form. Bruce wanted to join them. Wanted to comfort his brother, but it felt wrong. How can he comfort him when he’s the one that pushed him to this point? 

Clay moved next, stepping around him and after a pause, grabbed his arm and dragged him forward. They curled around him. Keeping Johnny in the middle as they wrapped all their gangly limbs around him.

“It wasn’t your fault. I- We never blamed you.” 

Bruce took a deep breath, interrupting before Clay could continue talking. 

“Johnny, I know you don’t believe us. I can feel you shaking your head. That’s okay. You don’t have to believe us right now.”

“Bruce is right,” Floyd confirmed, his tone softer and gentler, always the kind hearted brother, “You don’t have to believe us right now, but you will one day. I’ll say it a thousand times a day until you believe me.” 

“I’m Sorry I quit the band.” Clay blurted out. “Like I’m not sorry because it was suffocating, like I couldn't be me, not around you guys or on stage. I wasn’t sure I was anymore. But I didn’t know. Johnny I didn’t know you thought that- I didn’t know Bitty-”

“I’m sorry too!” Bruce sobbed, letting the tears roll down his cheeks, making Johnny shudder when they hit his hunched over form, “I never meant for it to go this far! I love you guys! I do! You’re my brothers.” he squeezed Johnny, before throwing his arms out to include Clay and Floyd. 

He looked up, and blinking through his tears he could see the other two were crying as well, all huddled around the oldest, sobbing their eyes out. John’s breath hitched, a jagged thing as he curled over, taking Floyd’s arm with him as he tried to hide his face.

“I love you too!” Floyd wailed, making them chuckle past the tears.

“Err is now a bad time?” a voice called out. 

Jumping away from his brothers, Bruce wiped his eyes and brought his hands up, ready for a fight just in case. But it wasn’t anyone to worry about, it was the troll from the Putt Putt course, looking dirty and worn down but shifting from foot to foot as he looked between the brothers.

“Mossy?” Clay’s voice cracked, straightening up with a frown.

The green troll's mouth quivered like he was nervous, bouncing on his toes slightly in front of the fire.

“Had to race back, wasn’t sure I’d be able to find you guys.” he admitted, “If this wasn’t so important I’d let you guys have your moment but well. You have to come with me towards the Village,”

Clay’s face flushed and his hands formed fist. Bruce wasn’t sure what the guy did but the twitch of Clay’s neck made a snarl rip past his lips as he got low to the ground, ready to take the guy out. Floyd let out a small meep but even with the nervous sound he copied Bruce’s fighting stance, unsure but always willing to defend. John blinked up, eyes a little glassy and cheeks blotchy, he stared at the older green troll with a frown, using the pause to rub his cheeks and face. 

His eyes went wide and wild as he raised his hands.

“No, no you got it wrong. Clay, you were right.” he said, ignoring them in favor of the one he knew, “We caught sight of a little blue trolling on our way to the village, just outside of it. We think he’s sticking to the river bank. Clay, you were right. Your brother is alive.”

Bruce felt like his strings were cut. Slipping to the ground next to Johnny, he stared up at the green troll in awe at the news. A bubble of laughter burst out his chest, something relieved and hysterical after the night they just had. But John was up, already packing up their things and trying to kick dirt into the fire. 

“Come on,” he muttered, adding water to make it sizzle and die.

“Come on, up.” he insisted. “We have to go. Faster we get moving the faster we get to Bitty.” 

“Ah,” King  Peppy paused, looking at all the trolls - not new, but old friendly faces he knew from around the tree. And oh how his heart felt like it would burst seeing his eldest daughter by his side, holding on to his youngest, both girls unwilling to let the other go. 

“I must warn you, we’ve been having problems with some… hungry critters, so our farmers have laid some traps. Nothing hurtful but some pitts are scattered around these areas and are covered by moss and leaves, so please be careful.”

The gathering trolls nodded, only half listening he was sure. Most of them were looking around, actively looking up at the pods and through the crowd that had gathered trying to find family. 

“Please, make yourself at home.” he settled on after a second.

The two crowds of trolls surged, crashing into each other with shouts and glee. It was a heartwarming sight and made him soften, seeing families being reunited. Boom, a young yellow glitter troll was swept up in a hug as his father and sister found him, picking up the nine year old to dot kisses on his face. Melvin the baker's apprentice was hopping up and down trying to look through the crowd of trolls, it was a sight to see his face light up as his mother made her way through the crowd. Grandparents and siblings, cousins and aunts, he couldn’t help the large grin that stretched across his features. And without much warning he turned around and swept his daughters up into a hug, basking in the joy and innocent giggling.