Chapter Text
The new location of the village was far from perfect but much safer than the previous one. It was deeper into the forest, there was a grove of large, probably ancient trees, with thick roots that wove above and below the surface. With some of the tree’s hollow providing area for hidden movement, it was easier to hide the pods and buildings all around. Even if another Bergen did find them, the roots were thick and would slow them down; still, Branch had them work on underground shelters. After a long day of hauling dirt and stone, he was definitely ready for rest.
“Your Majesty?”
Branch was still startled at the title and whipped around in surprise.
Meadow Sprigs flinched for a second, muttered a quick apology, before she spoke. “Would you like to take your meal by yourself or with the others tonight?”
Branch contemplated it for a moment. While he was definitely exhausted, and while he understood a King should be able to watch over his people, his presence still had the tendency to sour moods. “I’ll just have dinner alone tonight.” He could still watch over from above. It wouldn’t make any difference.
A new voice cut in. “He’ll be eating with us,” Boom answered with a confident smile, unyielding to Branch’s glare.
“Are you going to drag me there?” Branch asked, annoyed.
Boom hummed for a moment. “Probably, at least for a bit.”
Branch knew Boom was just trying to help. They had known each other since they were kids, and when Branch was asked to be king, Hype was one of the first to step in and help out. Still, something about how he interacted with Branch grated on his nerves. (Maybe it reminded him too much of Poppy).
“I’d rather not.” Branch gritted out as he stepped away from Boom.
Boom pursed his lips in annoyance, but chose not to argue. “Alright then. Need any company?”
“No,” Branch said, harder this time, as he left.
After a small dinner, Branch went to work on cataloging the village's needs. A lot of work went into keeping the village upright, and while Poppy’s old scrapbooks detailed the village's routines, it was difficult to manage everyone in a new environment. Winter was coming in a few months, and there wasn’t nearly enough time to prepare new fields. Maybe if they foraged and hunted enough, they could get by, but even that was difficult given how few trolls had the skills for it. Those who did, alongside Branch, were stuck working around the clock trying to teach others how to identify which plants were edible and which animals could be hunted. It was like pulling teeth to get the village to accept that their past fun-filled sugary festivities wouldn’t be around for a long time; they couldn’t risk traveling back to the village, not with Chef still out there hunting them down.
The thought of the Bergen made Branch’s entire body begin to shake in fear, and he had to forcibly step away from the paperwork. He could work on it later; there was no reason he couldn’t start his nighttime rounds early.
At the guard switch, Karma had somehow known he’d be out early, most likely because she had come back the previous day to him already outside, and she gave him a small smile with a nod, and turned away to give him space to prepare.
On top of foraging, he and a few volunteers kept a 24/7 guard of the new village, not leaving anything to chance. Thankfully, it was easier to get more trolls to agree to at least patrol the outskirts of the village than to build bunkers, and it gave Branch a silver more of privacy.
As he carefully traveled across the tree tops, he did his best to focus on the surrounding landscape and not on the bleak thoughts that simmered in the back of his head. It was exhausting, but if he kept himself busy enough for long enough, the hollow weight in his chest wouldn’t suffocate him as much.
His ears flickered to the side when he heard a small rustle in the bushes below, and he quietly climbed down to see what it was.
He pulled his bow from its holster. Pulled half drawn, ready to strike, he almost dropped the arrow when a glow beetle zoomed in and almost hit him. It crashed down to the ground. After examining its wounds, he realized it was Creek’s pet.
“Creek!” He called out, almost desperately. If there was a chance Creek was alive, maybe the others who had been taken were too.
The leaves began to rustle again, and Branch could see the faded ombre hair of the ‘guru’ troll. He ran closer and barely made it in time to catch an unconscious Creek. The troll on the ground was far duller than he once was, but there was enough color to still identify him. A nasty burn injury seemed to brew across his back, and Branch carefully picked him up to avoid that and the other smaller injuries. He waited for a moment, praying for a second miracle, and that a tuft of pink hair would come into view with the footsteps of a familiar troll, but all he heard was the urgent hum of the beetle's wings. Branch took a moment to swallow his grief and picked the beetle up with his hair and ran to the medical pods.