Chapter Text
Today was the day. The day they would finally flee from the troll tree that had been their home for hundreds of years. Flee from their birthplace and home. Flee from sorrow and death. The remaining trolls of the Pop genres would at last leave the terrible place, Bergen town, where the worst creatures—the Bergeners—bred and kept them captive for the sole purpose they looked forward to. The one day they cherished each year. Trollstice. The day they eat a troll, young or old, and truly feel joy and happiness. For Bergeners are very unhappy and miserable beings who, it is believed at least, can only feel true happiness if they eat a troll. A creature that constantly sings and seems endlessly happy. A happiness they longed to get a taste of.
While their king, King Peppy, prepared their escape with the other elders and adult trolls, a small troll cub sat alone in one of the pods in the tree. He sat in the middle of the floor, in what looked like it had once been a cozy living room, but now appeared dusty and forgotten. It seemed no one had given this home any love or care for a while—yet it was still deeply cherished. The little troll, with fur gray as stone, hair black as the darkest night, and a face—if one could have seen it, hidden as it was behind his pulled-up knees—wore an expression of the deepest sorrow and despair.
Branch curled his tail around himself—a tail unusually long, even for a Pop Troll—in an attempt to give himself some comfort. He didn’t want to leave his home, the only place where he still had memories of his family before they all left him. His brothers, who abandoned him when the band broke up and his grandmother… His grandmother, who selflessly gave her life for him just a few months ago. The tears streamed endlessly down his cheeks. He tried to wipe them away with his paws, but the fur beneath his eyes only became raw and worn. One of the downsides of turning gray: the quality of his fur had declined quite a bit.
Without proper grooming, washing, and the medicinal treatments he received from Dr. MoonBloom—meant to help prevent both skin irritation and fur damage—his fur would eventually have worn down, and he would likely have ended up with severe irritation and infections in his skin.
Not that his current foster home would have let that happen. He had been lucky that King Peppy had found him very soon after Grandma Rosiepuff’s death. Many had heard the commotion, and no one had dared go outside for the rest of the day, afraid more would be taken. And it hadn’t even been Trollstice. But Peppy had heard his muffled wails and whimpers—the sounds troll cubs made to call for their caretakers. The elder troll hadn’t hesitated to go out and carry the little gray troll cub to safety. He had stayed with him for a few days, until his current caretaker, Sky Toronto, had volunteered to take over responsibility for the little gray troll. Sky Toronto and Rosiepuff, along with Peppy and several others from the older generation, had grown up together and were all close friends.
Sky hadn’t hesitated to take in the small, traumatized gray troll child, and Branch had lived under his roof ever since. But now that they were fleeing, he had snuck away to his old home—Grandma Rosiepuff’s pod. He couldn’t leave behind the last place that held memories of her. Even though the pod had stood empty for months now, it was—and would always be—his home.
Branch sniffled, once again trying to wipe away his tears with the soft pads of his paws. Fur came loose and scattered onto the dusty carpet. His ears twitched slightly as he heard the panicked calls of his caretaker outside, but he only curled up tighter, his tail wrapped around his body, now tucked into a small ball of gray fur.
"BRANCH? BRANCH?!" Sky called frantically as he searched for his missing foster cub. More than half of the trolls had already made their way down into the escape tunnels, moving through the dark passageways they had worked so hard to build. While he had been keeping count of the trolls with King Peppy, his little troublemaker had slipped away.
How could Branch do this now, right before they were all about to leave the tree?
He had searched their home and the plants around the tree’s roots without success. The last place he could think to look was Rosiepuff’s old pod. And the elder glitter troll had guessed right.
There, in the middle of the floor in his former friend’s living room, sat the little troll cub, smaller than Sky had ever seen him, crying his heart out. Soft, low whimpers came from the tiny creature, and the heart of the usually serious and tough troll melted for his foster cub.
Sky moved slowly and carefully toward the crying, trembling troll child. Gently, he knelt down beside Branch, wrapped his paws softly around him, and lifted the cub into his arms.
Branch didn’t resist, but through broken sobs he tried to tell Sky that he wanted to stay behind—that his brothers might never find him again if he left the tree.
Sky shushed him softly, trying in vain to comfort the hysterical troll cub. His eyes fell on an old family photo hanging on the wall. A picture of Rosiepuff with all her grandchildren.
He hadn’t been back here since her death. It was tradition to leave empty pods undisturbed.
Sky Toronto walked over to the wall and gently took the photo down. The motion caught the attention of the little troll pup in his arms. He handed the photo to Branch, who clutched it tightly to his chest, pressed between their two bodies.
Sky Toronto placed a paw gently under Branch’s chin and lifted it, hoping to catch the little pup’s attention. Tear-filled, silvery-gray eyes met deep, loving blue ones.
"Branch, I need you to hold on to me—no matter what happens, no matter what you hear or see, don’t let go of my fur. Do you understand?"
Branch stared at him for a moment, then nodded and tucked the photo into his hair. He shifted slightly so that his body lay flat against Sky’s chest. Tiny claws extended from his paws and hooked into the older troll’s sides.
Sky guided Branch’s long tail over his back and curled his own tail around it. He didn’t want to risk it getting hurt by dragging along the ground.
Once he was sure Branch had a firm grip, he dropped to all fours and bolted out through the opening of the pod.
Sky leapt out of the opening with a powerful push from his hind legs. With a flexibility that could rival a cat’s, he sprang forward and dug his curved claws into the bark of the troll tree, scaling it as effortlessly as a squirrel.
Pop trolls were built and adapted for climbing and balancing in trees. With slender bodies, well-balanced tails, and sharp claws, they were without a doubt the most dominant troll species living in the treetops.
Not that they knew there were other species out there.
Unfortunately, Sky wasn’t as young as he once was—but he wasn’t holding back today. He could rest, just like all the other trolls, once they had made it safely through to the other side of the escape tunnels. He was nearing the entrance to the tunnels when he saw Peppy guiding the last of the trolls inside. He could see the relief in his friend’s eyes as he spotted his old companion sprinting toward him, the little runaway clinging to his chest.
"Thank the Troll you found him," Peppy said with relief, gently brushing the mane of the still-crying troll pup.
Branch’s sobs were now quiet, muffled into Sky’s chest fur, where he had buried his face deep in the golden glitter troll’s coat. Sky met Peppy’s gaze, his usually stern brow drawn downward in sorrow.
"He was in Rosiepuff’s old pod."
No more needed to be said. Peppy’s expression fell with quiet sadness. He gently stroked Branch’s mane in a comforting gesture.
"Come. We can’t wait any longer. The sun is starting to rise—they’ll soon realize we’re missing."
Sky nodded gravely, wrapped his arms tighter around his small charge, and began jogging into the tunnel alongside Peppy and the last of the trolls.
Peppy asked Sky to keep moving forward while he and a few other trolls stayed behind to help the elderly and sick who were trailing at the back of the group.Sky had to make sure the little troll pup in his arms got out safely.
It didn’t take long before they heard a commotion above them—the tunnels shook, and dirt crumbled from the ceilings. The Bergeners were running overhead, trying to pick up sounds from below. They were listening, hoping to locate where the trolls were hiding underground.
And then, to everyone’s horror, it didn’t take long before shovels and pickaxes began slamming into the earth around them.
"Branch, hold on!" Sky shouted over the noise of screams and rumbling earth.
Branch dug his claws in as Sky once again dropped to all fours, several other trolls doing the same.
They sprinted through metal and dirt, while parts of the tunnel collapsed around them. Some trolls fell as the walls caved in.
Branch held on for dear life, doing exactly as Sky had told him earlier—he closed his eyes.
He heard the screams of trolls in distress, some who likely would never make it out of the tunnels.
The air was so thick it was almost impossible to breathe.
Branch tried to shut it all out—the sounds, the smells. He tried to seal himself inside his own little safe bubble. But that bubble shattered in an instant when he suddenly no longer felt the warm, safe fur of the older troll beneath his paws.
Branch felt the fear take hold as he hit the ground hard and tumbled several times across the rough tunnel floor.
He didn’t stop rolling until he crashed into one of the dirt walls. A sharp cry of pain escaped him as a stabbing sensation shot up one of his hind legs. Tears streamed from his eyes as he looked down and saw that his leg was trapped beneath dirt and stones that had fallen from the ceiling.
He whimpered even more when he realized his tail had also been caught under the collapse.
He tried to dig himself out, but his small, four-year-old paws couldn’t budge the debris. And every time he managed to move something even slightly, new waves of pain shot through his body.
The tears continued to flow uncontrollably down his cheeks as he lay down on his side.
This was it. This was where he would die—trapped and alone in the dark tunnels beneath Bergen town. He placed his paws over his face. He could no longer focus on the world around him.
His head throbbed, his ears drooped, and the little gray troll pup understood that this would be his final resting place.
Trolls continued to run down the tunnels, none of them noticing the small body trapped beneath the earth.
Sky’s voice could be heard further down the tunnel, calling frantically as he searched for the missing cub among the panicked trolls fleeing for their lives. He was being pushed forward by the dense wave of trolls, unable to spot the little gray cub anywhere.
Branch didn’t know how long he had been trapped under the dirt. Though it felt like an eternity to the suffering troll pup, it had likely only been a few minutes. The crowd of fleeing trolls began to thin. Branch no longer had the strength to cry out. He lay completely still, all hope drained, as he closed his eyes—believing it would be for the last time.
"Branch?"
His ears twitched ever so slightly at the faint sound of someone saying his name. But all energy had left the exhausted and injured troll pup, and he remained completely still.
He barely noticed as someone gently lifted away the dirt and stones that had trapped him.
Two careful, soft paws wrapped around him, and he felt himself being pulled against a warm, familiar body.
His senses weakly registered the familiar scent of the troll holding him, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate anymore—he couldn’t place a name to the one who had picked him up.
Sky Toronto stood in anguish, staring into the tunnel openings, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of the little gray pup.
Trolls were still pouring out of the tunnels, some helping the injured escape.
There was no doubt that many lives had been lost during the escape. Sky had been stopped by several trolls when he tried to go back into the tunnels to search for his missing foster cub.
How could he have lost him so close to the exit?
The ceiling had collapsed right in front of him, and along with several other trolls, he had slammed into the debris and lost his balance.
Branch had been torn right off of him.
His fur still bore small patches of blood where the cub’s claws had clung to him.
The little troll had held on for dear life, yet was ripped away by the sheer force of the impact.
He hadn’t been able to find him again in the chaos—the flood of trolls had pushed him forward down the tunnels.
The normally stern troll felt his throat tighten as grief overtook him. Dr. MoonBloom was one of the trolls blocking the path back. She tried to explain that it was too dangerous to go in again, that there was nothing more they could do for those who didn’t make it out. Sky could see the tears welling in the eyes of the usually composed doctor.
He let his own tears fall freely.
MoonBloom stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the grieving troll.
"I'm so sorry, Sky. I wish there was more we could’ve done for him." She held the trembling body of the grieving glitter troll tightly.
"We were so close. I HAD HIM!" Sky couldn’t hold it in anymore—his legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed into the arms of the older doctor, screaming in grief.
Trolls around them stopped and watched in mourning. More sorrowful cries and weeping began to echo through the clearing as others started to grieve their own losses.
MoonBloom only held her longtime friend tighter, her own tears falling for the little troll they had lost.
Fewer and fewer trolls were coming out of the tunnels.
Around them, trolls mourned, but some gasped and ran forward in joy as those they thought had been lost emerged—injured, but alive.
A younger troll, Dr. MoonBloom’s apprentice, Plum Plimsy, approached the two grieving trolls carefully. Dr. MoonBloom met her gaze. Plum Plimsy’s eyes were brimming with tears.
"We have many injured trolls who need help… what should we do?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Dr. MoonBloom noticed that King Peppy had still not emerged from the tunnels. Taking a deep breath, still holding her grieving friend, she gave the order.
"Gather anyone with even basic medical knowledge. Move all the injured away from the tunnel entrances. We have to do what we can… with whatever we’ve got."
She helped move Sky over to the area where the other injured trolls were gathered and sat him down on a stone.
She didn’t have the heart to leave her broken friend, but she had to help organize medical care for the wounded trolls. Her throat tightened when she saw how dull the glitter troll’s fur had become.
"Sky—"
"I swore," he interrupted. "I swore I would take care of Branch."
He pulled his paws away from his face and met Dr. MoonBloom’s grieving eyes.
"I swore!" he said, desperate.
His entire body felt cold and hollow. It was like all his emotions had collapsed inside him.
His energy drained, and he barely felt the comforting paw that rested on his shoulder.
His own paws fell into his lap, and the only thing he could whisper was, "I failed him."
MoonBloom was just about to speak when they heard shouting.
"DR. MOONBLOOM!"
Out of the tunnel came a young troll with red fur and wild, flame-orange hair.
Her tail whipped behind her as she ran toward them. Not far behind her was King Peppy, leading the final group of surviving trolls. Poppy peeked out curiously from his hair.
There were cheers and cries of joy—but Sky Toronto and Dr. MoonBloom couldn’t take their eyes off the small figure being cradled carefully in the young troll’s arms.
Fire-Lilly, the young troll who had come running toward them, held something tightly and protectively in her paws.
Sky let out a slow breath before he whispered a name.
"Branch..."
Dr. MoonBloom had already taken the troll cub into her arms before he could even finish saying it.